


Surviving, living and the bits in between

by Moragh33 (moragh33)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 09:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 78,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5920474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moragh33/pseuds/Moragh33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is essentially a Clexa canon fic (which is going to take a significant detour from canon around about the midway point of season three...) with a little more detail than you get in the show because, hey, you don't get a running thought monologue from your protagonist on (most) tv shows. I'm terrible at writing summaries that sound interesting so just read a chapter and see what you think...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve not written anything for a while, but this pairing is just so good I had to do something, the current plan being to write the cannon story but with perhaps a few more details here and there. My knowledge of Trigedasleng spellings is not exactly encyclopaedic (dictionaric? I’m pretty certain that’s not a word in English…), so I’m relying on lingojam.com/TrigedaslengTranslator, so sorry about that if I get anything wrong! Anywho, I’m enjoying writing this so far, hope you enjoy reading :)

**Chapter 1**

“If you so much as look at her the wrong way, I will slit your throat.”

Clarke didn’t doubt him. The intensity in the Grounder’s glare was more than enough to convince her. She couldn’t help but wonder about this Commander who seemed to inspire such ferocity in her followers, the very same Commander on whose reasonableness Clarke was more or less gambling the lives of all her friends and family.

She followed the guard into the tent, eyes darting around to take in the threatening stance of every Grounder present.

All of them except for the Commander.

Clarke didn’t quite know what to make of her. She swallowed hard, trying not to feel her own fear as a fresh wave of awareness of her own vulnerability swept over her. The Commander looked so calm, so relaxed, leaning back on her incredibly intimidating seat – _throne, maybe?_ \- and almost casually playing with a dagger in her hands. She was so much younger than Clarke had anticipated. She hoped this display of almost arrogant calm was as much a mask as the black paint that hid the Commander’s face.

“You're the one who burned 300 of my warriors alive.”

The Commander didn’t even look at Clarke as she spoke, her eyes only rising from her blade tip to look at the blonde to demand an explanation.

“You're the one who sent them there to kill us.” Clarke reminded herself to breathe, that she needed to tread carefully on the fine line between showing strength and showing aggression. She reminded herself to breathe again as Lexa thunked the tip of her blade into the armrest of her throne, her head raising slightly as she finally condescended to actually look at Clarke head on, her fingers still idly twisting the dagger on its tip.

“Do you have an answer for me, Clarke of the Sky People?”

Her voice was different to what Clarke had expected.

“I've come to make you an offer,” Clarke did her best to keep her own voice firm, reasonable, deserving of respect.

“This is not a negotiation.”

There was almost half a hint of humourless laughter in the Commander’s voice, such certainty that Clarke could not possibly have anything to offer that was even worthy of her consideration.

The dark skinned warrior to Lexa’s left suddenly addressed her Commander; Clarke couldn’t understand the Grounder language but the woman’s stance and facial expression told her more than enough about what she was saying; Clarke wanted to punch her. The warrior’s swift silence as Lexa calmly but firmly raised a hand to stop her also told Clarke a lot.

“I can help you beat the Mountain Men.”

The sharpness with which Lexa’s eyes snapped to focus on hers, the tiny shift of her posture as she brought her dagger back to rest in her lap, the short silence laden with consideration; these gave Clarke her first miniscule drops of hope that the Commander might actually be as open to reason as Kane had said she was. Clarke held her breath.

“Go on.”

Clarke breathed again.

“Hundreds of your people are trapped inside Mount Weather kept in cages; their blood is used as medicine.”

“How do you know this?”

“Because I saw them. My people are prisoners there, too. I was one of them.”

“Lies,” the dark skinned warrior spoke in English this time but Clarke wanted to punch her nonetheless. “No one escapes the mountain.” She was practically snarling with hatred as she glared at Clarke.

“I did,” the blonde replied quickly, directing her gaze back to Lexa and noting the sharp interest warring with sharp distrust in her eyes. “With Anya.” The Commander’s reaction was well masked but it was there. “We fought our way out together.”

“Another lie,” the warrior to Lexa’s left interrupted again and Clarke tried not to let her frustration cloud her. “Anya died in the fire. You killed her.”

For what felt like the thousandth time, Clarke cursed the bullets that had ended Anya’s life and prayed that the braid of her hair she’d cut would be enough to convince Lexa that her former mentor had allied herself with Clarke before she died. She reached into her pocket and suddenly felt the tension in the room rocketing, heard the soft clink of half-drawn blades rattling around her. The Grounder warriors all shifted a step closer, preparing to strike; the Commander only raised her head an inch, her outward calm prevailing. Clarke tried to maintain eye contact as she drew the braid from her pocket.

“She told me you were her second,” Clarke spoke carefully, holding the braid between her hands so they could all see it was no weapon. Lexa’s reaction was interesting: eyes glued to the braid, a swallow, face firmly neutral. “I'm sure she'd want you to have this.” Clarke stepped forward carefully, wanting to watch the Commander’s reaction but unable to stop her eyes from darting nervously to the enormous guard who had originally brought her in and was hovering with zealously protective menace. But as Clarke stepped back again her eyes fell to Lexa, trying to read all she could from her, the care with which she held the braid, the tiniest caressing movement of her fingers across it.

“We don't know it's hers,” the dark skinned warrior warned, that snarl still in her voice. Clarke just about restrained herself.

 _“_ Shof op, Indra.”

Lexa’s calm voice sharpened the tiniest amount, silencing her subordinate. Again Clarke didn’t know the words but she tried not to let out a shit-eating grin because it sounded so like the Commander had just told her infuriatingly hateful general to ‘shut up’.

“Anya was my mentor before I was called to lead my people,” Lexa addressed Clarke again, her voice calm. Clarke wondered if she was imagining the hints of grief under the calm. “Did she die well?”

Lexa apparently couldn’t maintain her calm, ask her question and look Clarke in the eye all at the same time.

 _I’m not imagining it; the Commander_ is _human. Kane was right._

“Yes,” the blonde replied firmly, meeting Lexa’s gaze as it returned to her and trying to show the secretly grieving Commander that she grieved with her. “By my side, trying to get a message to you.”

_Come on, come on, come on-_

“What message?”

_Here goes._

“The only way to save both our people is if we join together.”

“Those who are about to die will say anything.” Again the dark skinned warrior voiced her scepticism with enough hate to launch a rocket. Clarke met her glare with one of her own, trying to find her own calm before meeting Lexa’s gaze again.

“I'm still waiting for an offer, Clarke.” Lexa’s calm was back; Clarke wondered if she was perhaps hiding anger beneath it along with her grief or if she’d imagined that steeliness in her eyes. The blonde swallowed, reminded herself to breathe again.

“The Mountain Men are turning your people into Reapers.” Lexa’s eyes flashed her interest. “I can turn them back.”

“Impossible,” the dark skinned warrior interjected again.

“I've done it,” Clarke insisted quickly, praying silently that she wasn’t lying and that Lexa wouldn’t see her uncertainty. “With Lincoln.”

At this, the dark skinned warrior seemed to reach her limit. She snarled in outrage, advancing on Clarke as she spoke and Clarke had to work very hard not to back away

“That traitor is the reason-”

“Indra!” Lexa interrupted, her voice sharpening and her eyes narrowing as her general carried on.

“-my village was slaughtered by your people.”

“Pleni!!” the Commander roared, standing to her feet and demanding silence. Clarke’s heart was hammering but the general, ‘Indra’ she thought, backed down.

_She may be young but she certainly is ‘the Commander’..._

Clarke swallowed as Lexa walked towards her. The brunette was only slightly taller than Clarke and her movements graceful, but there was also a sense of innate, implacable power in her gait and in her stance that meant that, even though Lexa was much less aggressive than Indra had been, Clarke had to work at least as hard not to back away from her too.

“You say you can turn Reapers back into men?” the Commander’s voice was quiet and relatively calm again, although the restrained snarling challenge was clear in its undertones.

“Yes,” Clarke replied, again fighting to keep her voice as calm as Lexa’s, to hold her ground.

“Then prove it,” Lexa demanded, a slight flare of her nostrils and a curl of her lip showing Clarke how little the Commander trusted her. “Show me Lincoln.”

Clarke swallowed, forced herself to breathe, prayed. Nodded.

 

* * *

 

Clarke’s mind was stuttering and stumbling while trying to race at a thousand miles per hour as she lead the Grounders through the forest towards the drop ship. She was essentially betting the lives of everyone from the Arc on her mother’s ability to save Lincoln. Abby Griffin was the best but...

_What if she needs more time? I was at the Grounder camp for less than an hour, that can’t have been enough time. What if- Maybe I should try and go a longer route- No, don’t be stupid. They know where the drop ship is and they know these woods far better than I do; they’ll see what I’m doing. I just have to trust mum- ‘Cos that always works out so well- She’s going to save him. She has to. Or we’re all dead._

She glanced behind her warily, hoping the Grounders would not see her stress and understand its cause.

_Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god.... Breathe._

The drop ship came into view, the charred walls of the camp they’d made around it now housing the blackened skeletons of the Grounders that had died in the flames from the launch. Clarke wanted to smack herself in the face for not realising that that was the last thing she wanted the Grounders to be thinking of as she tried to forge an alliance with them.

_Why, oh why, did we not think to clean this up or to at least house Lincoln somewhere else!?_

Clarke felt her stomach dropping to her feet as she turned to face them and saw Lexa looking around at the destruction, at the scorched remains of 300 of her warriors. There was definitely fury under the calm this time.

“This way,” she said, amazing herself with how calm her voice sounded bearing in mind the wild ravings of panic tumbling through her gut. She turned and led the way into the drop ship, forcefully reminding herself to breathe as she reached the ladder and heard the clang of footsteps on metal behind her.

“Lincoln!” Octavia’s whimpering cries made Clarke’s blood freeze as she climbed up into the holding room.

_Oh god; that doesn’t sound good._

She reached the upper floor and time seemed to slow as she saw Lincoln's lifeless form, Octavia sobbing over him, and then met her mother’s eyes. She saw the fear erupt in them as Abby realised what was about to happen.

Time suddenly resumed its normal pace and an almost blind panic rose in Clarke’s chest at the sounds of Lexa, Indra and the rest of Lexa’s guard climbing up the ladder behind her; she could practically feel their building rage at the evidence of her failure before them. Lexa’s eyes flashed with fire and ice and steel as she took in the scene before her.

All it took was one curt nod from the Commander to the all-too-eager Indra.

“Kill them all!” the dark skinned warrior snarled and swords were drawn, battle stances taken. Clarke saw Bellamy reaching for his gun and her mother grabbing for an electric baton. Stalemate.

“Please,” Clarke turned to Lexa, willing to beg by this point. “You don't have to do this-”

“You lied,” the Commander cut her off. “And you're out of time.”

And then things changed so fast Clarke almost wasn’t sure what happened. There was the buzzing hum of electricity in the air and Abby was kneeling over Lincoln’s body, the electric baton in her hand and a terrified look on her face.

_My mother is a genius._

Clarke had never been so glad of her mother’s skills and quick thinking as she was in that moment. Not to mention the fact that all the Grounders in the room seemed to have been frozen by their confusion as to what Abby was doing and why.

“Hit him again,” Clarke said, hope now battling the fear in her throat.

Electricity buzzed again as Abby jabbed the baton at Lincoln’s chest, making the charge rattle through him.

Never had a moment seemed so long.

Lincoln gasped, his eyes shooting open and searching wildly, humanly for something to recognise.

“Lincoln!” Octavia cried and with that the big Grounder’s eyes fixed on her, settling with recognition like they hadn’t since his transformation into the monster.

“Octavia?” he whispered groggily; never had Clarke been so happy to hear his voice.

She heard the clink of metal behind her, the sound of a blade sliding against its sheath, and whipped around, her fear exploding into relief as she saw that Lexa was sheathing her blade, not drawing it. The Commander’s pale eyes met hers, seeming almost to glow against the black war paint on her face, and Lexa nodded, signalling the stand down to her warriors and bursting the bubble of stress in Clarke’s chest that had almost stopped her from breathing altogether.

“We have much to discuss,” Lexa said, her eyes still on Clarke, still wary but just maybe tinged with a little hint of respect.

 

* * *

 

 Clarke tried not to feel giddy as she followed Lexa into her tent, the Commander’s cloak trailing after her regally. The blonde girl made herself breathe, stand taller and look the Commander in the eye, demanding the respect that the saving of Lincoln had earned.

“Lincoln's recovery was... impressive,” the Commander spoke with that steady calm that Clarke was beginning to associate with her. But she didn’t think it was impassivity so much as absolute composure, absolute control. “No one's ever survived such a fate before.”

“It's not complicated, really,” she replied, aiming to match Lexa’s self-possession. “We just have to keep them alive long enough for the drug to leave their system. I know we can do the same for others.”

Clarke forced herself to not hold her breath as the brunette’s pale, calculating eyes rested on her for a moment, the silence full of assessment and deliberation.

“You may have your truce.”

The desire to scream and shout for joy and relief was pretty strong in Clarke’s chest; she barely managed to contain it even in the face of Lexa’s cool dispassion.

“Thank you,” she replied, trying to keep her voice even but unable to keep all of her breathy relief in.

“I just need one thing in return,” the Commander asked and Clarke only just stopped herself from replying ‘anything’.

“Tell me.”

“Deliver me the one you call Finn.” Clarke’s joy froze, ice cracking its way down her spine as she realised she knew what Lexa was about to say. “Our truce begins with his death.”

Clarke could practically feel the blood draining from her face, feel the bile pooling in her stomach, threatening to rise.

“Finn,” she repeated stupidly, unable to find any of the composure she’d been trying to display.

“Yes,” Lexa replied calmly. “As a good-will gesture in honour of our truce, I will only take his one life for the eighteen innocents he murdered. I cannot promise you that all of my people will be happy about this mercy, but I can promise that I will hold them to it.”

Clarke had to work hard not to choke at the word ‘mercy’.

Her mind whirled on a nauseous merry-go-round of refusing to give him up, recognising why Lexa said she must and why it was called mercy, recognising that she was in no position to refuse the Commander, but unable to even contemplate saying yes.

“Clarke,” Lexa’s voice sounded again, jerking the blonde from her horrified reverie. Clarke made herself meet the Commander’s eyes; she nearly cried out at the flash of steel and unyielding resolve she saw in them.

“May I discuss this with my people?” she managed to squeeze the words out, desperate to buy some time, hoping that somehow it would present an alternative.

One of Lexa’s eyebrows quirked minutely.

“You may,” she said after a short silence. “But your discussions will not be long. You have until tomorrow’s sunset to give him up.”

_Less than 24 hours. I have less than 24 hours to think of a way to save Finn without the Commander massacring everyone one I care about._

Clarke just about managed to nod. Lexa watched her for a moment more and Clarke wondered briefly if she was expecting thanks. She couldn’t have said it if she’d wanted to.

Lexa nodded once, turning abruptly to one of the guards on the door.

“Escort Clarke of the Sky People back to her camp and await the delivery of the prisoner.”

And with that Clarke was dismissed.

She walked in a daze, her mind barely able to comprehend the enormity of what was happening. She pictured Finn’s face, the way he smiled and laughed. She pictured him holding an automatic weapon, standing over the unarmed bodies of those he’d murdered. She tried to picture herself explaining to Lexa, to Indra, that he hadn’t meant it, it was an accident; he wasn’t himself. She tried to picture herself ever looking at him again like she had before.

Nothing made sense anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya, sorry this took a little longer to upload than I’d intended! *mildest of to-date season 3 spoiler alerts* I watched 3x03 and my head pretty much exploded, so it took me a little while to put it back together in order to write mid-season 2 Clarke and Lexa again! Anywho, here’s chapter 2; as you can probably expect, it’s a little on the angsty side, but I think I kept the Flarke to the minimum necessary to still be canon…I think… Let me know!

**Chapter 2**

“He's not a Reaper anymore,” Clarke began, her mind still flitting frantically around as she tried to figure out how to proceed now that the survival of her people apparently depended on the death of Finn Collins. This, here, was at least something she could fix. “He doesn't need to be restrained.”

“Yes, I do,” Lincoln himself contradicted her. _So much for something I can fix._

“Just tell us,” Abby spoke into the silence. “Is there a way to make peace?”

Clarke looked from her mother to the broken man on the bed, hoping he would have a solution and doubting it just as much.

“Did she leave riders behind?” Lincoln asked wearily.

“Two just outside the gate.”

“They're waiting for Finn,” he nodded, his dark eyes still hollow from his ordeal. “You don't have much time to decide.”

“She can't expect us to just hand over one of our own people,” Octavia voiced her frustration, her fear, but even as she said it, Clarke remembered Lexa calling this a ‘mercy’. To Lexa, this demand was _merciful_. “Would she do that?” Octavia asked, disbelief clear in her tone.

“She wouldn't let the rest of her people die to protect a murderer,” Lincoln said flatly; Clarke knew instantly that he was right. Lexa’s pride would make her do this in a heartbeat. “If you don't do this, she will kill everyone in this camp.”

“There has to be something else that we can offer,” Abby said with the slightly desperate impatience of one who knows she’s clutching at straws.

“Finn took 18 lives,” Lincoln interrupted with the truth that made Clarke’s nausea rise up and punch her in the gut. The way he said the number, the look on his face, it nearly made her vomit on the spot. “The Commander's offering to take just one in return. Take the deal.”

Hearing him echo Lexa’s comparison, hearing him say it like he agreed that she was being merciful, it roused some spark of anger in Clarke.

“How can you say that?” she spoke for the first time in this conversation. “Finn was the first person to come to you to offer peace. He's your friend-”

“He massacred my village.” The image flashed again in Clarke’s memory as Lincoln’s voice cracked slightly, the wild and terrifying madness in Finn’s eyes as he clung to the rifle; ‘massacre’ was the word. “Some of the dead were my friends, too.”

“But that wasn't Finn. You know that's not who he is.”

“It is now.” The retort felt slightly like being thrown back against a wall, an incontrovertible truth: Finn Collins’ identity would now forever be tarnished by a massacre. “We've all got a monster inside of us, Clarke, and we're all responsible for what it does when we let it out.”

“What will they do to him?” Abby asked and Clarke immediately knew she didn’t want to know the answer.

“Fire. Because he killed the innocent, it starts with fire.”

“Starts?” Clarke swallowed, trying not see it.

“They'll take his hands. His tongue, his eyes. And anyone who grieves will have a turn with the knife. At sunrise, the commander will end it with her sword. But I've never known anyone to survive until the sword. He killed 18; he will suffer the pain of 18 deaths. Then we can have peace.”

18 deaths suffered by one man, one murderer. This was brutal Grounder Justice at its most vicious. But with every failed argument she came up with against Lincoln, the most peaceful Grounder they had met by far, it became increasingly obvious that nothing less would satisfy the Commander and her people. If she traded Finn for their truce, his fate would be worse than anything she could bear to imagine.

 

* * *

 

_This is insane._

That was all Clarke could think as she watched the sun ticking its way closer to the horizon, closer to the deadline the Commander had given her. Almost the entire day had been spent in a crazy wash of desperation and denial, trying to stop Finn doing something stupid and trying not to accept the idea that his death was the only way to save the Ark’s entire population from being wiped out.

And now, here at the drop ship, Clarke lay as flat as she could behind their feeble excuse for cover, trying not to hear the voice in her head that told her confidently that this plan was stupid, that there was absolutely no way that the five of them would be able to defend themselves against god-only knew how many Grounders. Her head was throbbing from the hit she had taken earlier; the image of Finn looking at her before he went down the hatch to the lower level as if he wanted, what?, some kind of good luck kiss? Declaration of love and forgiveness? None of it was helping her focus.

_Let alone think of a plan that has any chance of success- Shut up!_

“See anything?” she asked Raven beside her, who was squinting tensely down the scope of her gun.

“No,” the mechanic answered and Clarke could practically feel the fear lurking in her voice despite her attempts to hide it.

Silence reigned for a few more minutes and then there was a tiny rustling sound to the left.

“Someone's coming,” Raven hissed. “There.”

She pointed to a dark shape flitting along the edge of their camp towards the entrance. Clarke squinted, her pounding head making her vision blur for a moment before she realised what was happening.

“Finn?” she called as she saw him stood in the gateway, arms raised in surrender. “No! Finn!” He turned to look back at them and Clarke knew that on some level she’d known this would happen, known it would- it must be inevitable.

_But how could he-_

And then he was gone, swallowed in a horde of angry Grounders.

 

* * *

 

Clarke didn’t even know how to think as she made her way through the Grounders towards the Commander’s tent. Every limb was shaking, every thought in her brain splintering and breaking as she tried to think of a plan, tried to think even of how to form the words to beg; Raven’s knife was cold and hard and sharp against her wrist.

It seemed almost right that, though all the Grounders had mysteriously parted before her in her slow march, there was one, Indra, that would give her no leave to pass. The warrior’s face burned with fury as she stood in Clarke’s path, her spear raised and unmoving. Clarke met her eye as she stepped forward again, hoping to see some spark, some recognition, but all she could see was rage and determination like nothing she’d ever seen before as Indra held the spear to Clarke’s sternum.

“I'm here to talk to your Commander,” Clarke began, forcing her voice to hold steady.

Indra said nothing, only glared at her and held her stance. Clarke tried to move forward, even as the point of Indra’s spear pierced her skin, her complete lack of a plan making this doomed attempt seem the only option.

“Let me through,” she pleaded, trying not to wince in pain as the spear tip went deeper.

There was the barest hint of grim satisfaction beginning to form on the Grounder general’s face until-

“Let her pass.” The Commander’s voice suddenly rang across the clearing as she swept from her tent. Indra swallowed her ire and lowered her spear, thunking its haft into the ground with such deliberation that Clarke felt a fresh wave of cold sweat break out on her back.

 _Breathe,_ Clarke told herself desperately, well aware that her ability to think of a plan would not be helped by oxygen deprivation. _Breathe._

She strode carefully towards the Commander and was slightly taken aback to see something she thought might be pity on her face.

“You bleed for nothing,” the Commander said, her calm composure perhaps masking sympathy, or perhaps masking nothing at all. “You cannot stop this.”

“No,” Clarke whispered, trying to hold herself together as she grasped at the straws of the compassion she thought she might be seeing. “Only you can.”

At that moment, the noises of an angry, vengeful crowd began to increase around them. Clarke looked up to see Finn, hands tied, being marched towards the pole he was to be sacrificed against. He met her gaze, fear and confusion and more fear lining his face.

“Show my people how powerful you are,” Clarke begged, trying to appeal to the Commander’s pride if her compassion was not enough. “Show them you can be merciful. Show them you're not a savage.”

As soon as she said that last word she could feel the air change, the Grounders nearest her all but growling their displeasure; there was a slight, almost unrecognisable hardening of the Commander’s features. Clarke knew in that moment that she’d lost.

“We are what we are,” the Commander said, her voice low and controlled and devoid of any compassion, real or imagined.

“Then I'm a killer,” Clarke said, the pitch of her voice rising as she lost some of her control and all of her hope. “I burned 300 of your people. I slit a man's throat and watched him die. I'm soaked in Grounder blood. Take me-”

“Finn is guilty,” the Commander said, her face as implacable as her voice.

“No! He did it for me,” Clarke could feel her argument slipping, her grip on the situation slipping. “He did it for me.” Her voice cracked completely, even as she fought against the overwhelming tide of pain in her chest that was trying to force tears down her face.

“Then he dies for you.”

Clarke stared for a moment, almost unable to comprehend that this was really happening. Finn was going to die and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

And not just die, he was going to suffer the pain of 18 deaths _….starting with fire….nothing I can do…._

Raven’s knife was practically burning into Clarke’s wrist. The Commander was stood so close to her, pale eyes against a black mask.

_If I could be quick enough…_

But she had to dismiss that idea almost as soon as she’d thought it. Not only was she not likely to be quick enough, but even if she was, what then? Yes, there would be mayhem, but Bellamy and Raven were too far away to make any use of it…

_…quick…_

She looked across to where Finn was tethered to the post.

_…oh god…_

“Can I say goodbye?” she asked, not knowing how she kept herself from falling apart as she looked at the Commander.

There was a pause while Lexa considered, but then she granted Clarke the smallest of nods. Clarke knew she should feel relieved but all she felt was a kind of empty horror.

She turned, her legs feeling like they’d been glued to the ground as she forced herself forward, towards the boy she’d already loved and lost.

_It’s the only way… it’s the only way to save him from… the only way…_

Her mantra rattled around in her head as she jogged the last few paces towards him, pushing herself as close as she could get, determined to give him and herself the best goodbye she could muster. She tried to memorise every moment as she kissed him, every feeling, but all she could feel was that numbing hollowness of despair, of finally losing what you know you’ve already lost.

“I love you, too,” she whispered, trying to ease his pain and her own.

“I'm scared,” he breathed and she pushed herself close to him again, trying to comfort, trying to make it better, trying to make him know he wasn’t alone.

“You're gonna be ok,” she said, her voice cracking into a sob as she let Raven’s knife fall into her hand. “You're ok.”

She took a shuddering breath and pressed the knife up to his chest, hesitating only a moment as he understood before she pushed it up, plunging the knife into his chest as smoothly as she could. She held close to him, just long enough for him to whisper: “Thanks, princess,” and Clarke's heart broke all over again.

She pulled the knife out carefully, the blood flowing thick and wet over her shaking hand as Finn’s body stiffened, shuddered and finally relaxed, his head coming to rest on her shoulder. Clarke reminded herself to breathe and backed carefully away from him, unable to watch as his limp body sagged against his restraints. She turned away, her eyes flitting back to where the Grounders were watching and saw the moment they realised what she’d done.

Their rage swelled instantly and Clarke knew a brief moment where she thought she’d find her own death here as Indra raised her spear but-

“It is done.”

Once again the Commander’s voice suddenly called out, one arm raising to quell her people’s ire. Clarke stared as Lexa saved her life and their alliance with three words and the raising of one hand.

A sound, the like of which Clarke wished to never hear again, rose from the Ark: one lone cry of pain and despair, and Clarke knew that Raven knew what she’d done. Raven’s agonising cries echoed in the stillness of the night and Clarke almost wished Indra had thrown that spear before Lexa could stop her.

She staggered forwards a few more steps, absorbing the waves of fury being thrown at her from every direction, unable to understand the enormity of what she’d just done.

“Gustus,” Lexa barked and the enormous guard from the previous day straightened up. “Take Clarke of the Sky People to my quarters and see that she stays there until I am ready to deal with her.”

There was the slightest of hesitations and the first beginnings of rumbling protest from the surrounding Grounders but they all hushed as the Commander raised her hand again.

“Now,” she said, her voice utterly calm and yet with such force that no one could dare disobey.

The huge Grounder, Gustus, marched over to Clarke, one massive hand gripping her by the collar of her jacket while the other quickly knocked the knife from her grasp, and hauled her off back to the Commander’s tent. Clarke tried to feel scared, to feel anxious, even to feel hopeful because they hadn’t just killed her, but that all-pervading hollowness still held sway in her chest and there was no room for anything else. It was surreal, knowing that any moment now it was all going to crash down over her, the knowledge that Finn was dead and that she had killed him, but right then she just couldn’t feel it.

As Gustus shoved her forward, she glanced up to see Lexa’s pale eyes fixed on her, unreadable in the dark; there was nothing unreadable in the low snarl that Indra let out as they passed. Clarke’s eyes began to blur and she let them.

“Stay here,” Gustus growled as he pushed her through the tent flap. “There will be guards outside and I will be one of them, so do not even think of trying to escape.” He glared for a second longer and then left the tent.

Silence held for a few seconds as Clarke walked automatically towards the small platform in front of her and sat down; and then the roaring in her ears began. Sitting down had led to the natural consequence of resting her arms on her thighs which led to being confronted with the sight of her own hands covered in dark, wet, scarlet.

It was still dripping.

She stared, not knowing for how long, watching Finn’s blood dripping from and drying on her fingers while her own blood pounded through her body, each beat humming and whining in her head.

And that was when it began to hit her.

Her chest suddenly constricted and she knew that if she didn’t get it off, didn’t get Finn’s blood off her hands, she would never be able to breathe again. It was so red and so sticky and it wouldn’t come off, she kept scrubbing and scrubbing, but it wouldn’t come off-

Just barely, she became aware that someone else was in the room, someone was moving slowing towards her.

_Mum._

Abby knelt carefully before her, her hands coming up to hold Clarke’s own but all Clarke could think was that there was still so much blood on her hands and her mother would see-

“They would have tortured him,” she cried, trying to tell herself as much as Abby. “I had to- I had to-”

“It's ok,” Abby said, gently but firmly pulling Clarke into an embrace. Clarke knew that it was most definitely not ok. “It's ok.”

“What did I do?” Clarke whispered, unable to think it, unable to bear it, even as her mother rocked her gently.

And then the tent flap was pulled swiftly back to reveal Gustus standing there, huge and intimidating and entirely unmoved in the doorway. Clarke instantly knew that she couldn’t afford to fall apart here and now. She remembered the fact that Grounders seemed only to respect strength and so she needed to show some. She pulled back from Abby, standing up and wiping the tears from her own face as she made herself find some composure, find the strength to not look to her mother or Kane for reassurance.

“The Commander is ready to talk,” Gustus said as he entered the room, glowering with unwavering suspicion at them all. Clark nodded and forced herself to stand straighter.

The Commander entered the tent, not even looking at Clarke as she strode passed her to the throne, followed by Indra and another of her generals. Indra did not hold back the fierce glare she had for Clarke, maintaining it even as she took her place beside the throne as Lexa sat down.

“Blood has answered blood,” Lexa began, not even a hint of a tremble in her voice to betray the anger Clarke thought she must feel. “Some on my side say that's not enough. They wanted the murderer to suffer as our tradition demands, but they do not know that your suffering will be worse.” Lexa’s eyes fixed on Clarke with such piercing force that it was all the blonde could do to keep standing. “What you did tonight will haunt you until the end of your days.” The Commander paused, just long enough to let that truth hang in the air before she carried on. “Still, there will be restitution. The body will be given to the people of Tondc, murderer and murdered joined by fire. Only then can we have peace.”

“No,” Kane spoke, almost shocking Clarke with his objection. “No. We've done enough. The boy should be buried by his own people.”

“Enough?” Indra growled, her outrage thrumming in the air. “We were owed the pain of 18 deaths. We were owed our righteous kill. My village deserves justice.”

“You don't want justice,” Abby argued, and Clarke could feel the pressure in the room rising and rising. “You want vengeance.”

“You have not _seen_ my vengeance,” Indra hissed, stepping forward as if compelled by her fury, and Clarke knew she had to stop this.

“We'll do it,” she said, thanking the skies for whatever strength she’d found that enabled her to just about keep the shaking from her voice. There was the slightest of pauses as Indra and Lexa both turned their eyes back to Clarke, some tiny fraction of the tension dissipating as they understood what she was saying. “But when it's over, we talk about how to get our people out of Mount Weather. All of our people.”

Another tiny silence held as the Commander weighed her words.

“We want the same things, Clarke,” she said, again in that cool, dispassionate voice.

“Good,” Clarke responded brusquely, trying to keep her focus. “When do we leave?”

“Now,” Lexa said and stood, looking down at her regally from her slightly raised platform. “Choose your attendants.” And she swept from the room, her generals in her wake.

“Clarke, you don't have to do this,” Abby said as soon as the Grounders had gone, turning to her daughter.

“Yes, I do,” Clarke said with weary certainty, wishing her mother would think rationally and not emotionally on this one time that she needed her to. “If this truce doesn't hold, I killed Finn for nothing.”

Saying the words out loud made Clarke’s insides squirm and convulse; she could no longer stand her mother’s attempt to protect her from something she absolutely had to face, so she left the tent, hoping that the cool night air outside might be bracing enough to force her to keep it together.

What she hadn’t counted on was the sight that met her as she left the tent: Raven on her knees beside Finn, her hands cradling his head.

_He was her family. Her only family._

Clarke slowed her approach, the realisation that she had no sufficient words hindering her.

“Go away,” Raven said, forcing the words out in a trembling voice.

“Raven, I’m sorry-”

“I said, go away!” the older girl raged at Clarke as she pushed herself to her feet, pain and anger blazing in her wet eyes as she stared at Clarke.

“I know how hard this must be for you,” Clarke began, knowing this needed to be done and forcing herself to keep going, “but I'm leaving with the Grounders, and I need you to keep working on the radio.”

And then two Grounders appeared, the thudding sound of their rough handling of Finn’s body making Raven spin around.

“What are you doing?” the mechanic demanded. “What are you doing?!” Her voice rose as she realised what was happening and it was all Clarke could do to hold her back before the still-injured girl tried to take on two fully armed Grounder warriors.

“They need to take him now,” she told Raven as calmly as she could.

“Like hell, they do- Get off!” Raven yelled, fighting Clarke’s hold on her.

“Give us a minute, please,” Clarke asked the Grounders as Raven continued to struggle, feeling slightly disbelieving relief as they backed off. “Raven-”

“You agreed to this?” the brunette demanded incredulously.

“We're taking him back to the village where the massacre took place,” Clarke said, keeping her voice as even as she could, trying not to be affected by the deepening pain and understanding in Raven’s face. “There's a death ritual. It's the only way to get our people out of Mount Weather.”

“Then I'm coming, too,” Raven snarled after a moment. “And don't worry; I'll bring your damn radio.” She almost spat the last words into Clarke’s face before pushing past her, making her way back to Camp Jaha.

 _Breathe_ , Clarke told herself for the thousandth time that day. She closed her eyes for a second, just a second to try and gather herself. She thought of the Commander’s calm impassivity and hoped she’d found something like it when she opened her eyes and nodded at the two Grounders who were waiting to take Finn’s body away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading; let me know what you think. Hopefully I’ll get the next chapter uploaded quicker than this one was…assuming I don’t get my head exploded all over again tomorrow….


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this chapter and realised it would be indisputably better from Lexa’s POV which is rather rude considering I’d intended to do this whole thing from Clarke’s POV (largely because I’m a ridiculous Lexa fangirl and deep down so is Clarke, let’s be real). It’s also the fault of my inner Lexa fangirl that the content I’d wanted to put in this one chapter won’t fit – I’m only halfway through and this chapter’s well over a thousand words longer than either of the first two – and I’ve had to split it in two, so chapter 4 will most likely be Lexa POV too. Madness.
> 
> Anywho, ramblerant over. Enjoy :)

_A beautiful day._

Lexa closed her eyes, basking for a few seconds in the bright sun as she exited her tent early the next morning. She could almost hear Anya’s chiding in her head and wondered how many times her mentor had scolded her for letting herself be distracted by the beauty of their world while there were plans and schemes, tactics and defences to be thought of. She brushed her fingers briefly over the braid of hair tied at her wrist before taking a breath and moving on.

The plan for the morning was a theoretically simple one, but it was oh so precarious in practise. She, Indra, Gustus and every warrior with them who hailed from Tondc were to leave for the village, bringing Clarke and her companions with them, but leaving the rest of the army behind to break camp properly and clear out of the Camp Jaha area. This alliance would not hold if the leaders of the Skaikru did not soon pay respect to the losses at Tondc, but it would also not hold if she kept her army at the gates of Camp Jaha. Lexa knew her people well enough to know that they were not happy that Clarke would suffer no obvious consequence for her actions last night; she could not afford any fracas breaking out this morning before they left, or she could not be certain that her army would leave Camp Jaha peacefully.

“Heda,” Gustus’ voice called and she turned to see him approaching carrying a water skin and some food.

“Thank you, Gustus,” she said, taking the water skin but refusing the food, “but I have already eaten.” He looked mildly disapproving but nodded; he was always uncomfortable when she ate something he had not first checked for poisons.

“The warriors of Tondc are assembled; they are ready to leave when you are,” he said in his soft, growling voice.

“Good,” she nodded, taking a swig of water. “Let us hope the Sky People are ready soon too; it will not help to draw out our departure this morning.”

“Indeed,” he murmured.

Lexa glanced at him and could see the disquiet on his face; she knew he was not convinced that this truce with the Skaikru was wise. She could understand this, of course; the Skaikru were mysterious in many ways, their strengths and weaknesses unknown, their sense of honour untested. What with the massacre at Tondc and the fact that Skaikru favoured the same weapons used by the Mountain Men, her decision to form an alliance with them was not likely to be a popular one; but Lexa knew strength when she saw it and she saw it in Clarke. Strength and determination and courage: these were not qualities to be ignored when determining friend from foe.

Besides all of which, the very fact that the Skaikru appeared to use similar weapons and technologies to the Mountain Men could be an advantage, could help them to find a weakness that no one in Trikru or any clan in the coalition had yet been able to find. If there was even the slightest chance that this alliance could bring them closer to defeating their most dangerous and consistent enemy, she would be not only foolish but weak not to attempt it just because of some temporary uneasiness amongst her people.

“Heda!”

The call came from one of the sentries at the edge of camp and Lexa looked up to see him pointing towards Camp Jaha. The gate was swinging open and a small troop of people filed out, the unusual pale blonde of Clarke’s hair making her distinguishable as the leader at the front of the group.

_Good._

A faint thrum of relief pulsed through Lexa’s stomach; she would not have to quell the ire of the Tondc warriors at being kept waiting longer than necessary before leaving.

She watched the Skaikru as they made their way down the hill towards them; she counted seven: Clarke, the healer, Marcus Kane, the girl who had cried so over the murderer, a tall dark haired man, and Lincoln with the Skaigada he was apparently now joined to. How that had happened would need investigating as a point of interest relevant to the possibilities of this alliance, but now was not the time.

“Commander,” Marcus called out as they arrived. “Well met.” As seemed to be his habit, he somewhat determinedly met her gaze and held it as he spoke, as if willing her to see his honesty; having witnessed his behaviour under stress, she was inclined to trust him at present.

“Marcus Kane,” she greeted him, nodding. “Clarke,” she shifted her eyes to the blonde who also met her gaze, a touch of defiance on her face even as she inclined her head. “You are all ready to leave?”

“Yes,” Marcus agreed. “This is Abby Griffin,” he said, indicating the healer. “She is Chancellor of the Ark and also Clarke’s mother.” Both of these pieces of information needed a lot of processing, especially the fact that the Ark’s leadership was in the hands of a healer, but now was not the time for said processing. “This is Raven Reyes, one of our top mechanics, and this is Octavia Blake and her brother, Bellamy Blake, both of whom came down with Clarke in the first drop ship.”

Lexa wondered briefly what a mechanic was. The girl appeared to be injured, but she didn’t have the stance or the muscle of a warrior. _A question to be answered another time._

“You are all welcome here,” she said, making her voice firm and clear and loud enough to be heard beyond their circle, well aware that every warrior in the camp was watching and listening. “Today will mark the end of the bloodshed between us and the beginning of a new alliance and a new strength.” She let her eyes wonder across the group, observing the differing levels of mistrust on each face: Marcus’ face was open and hopeful, while Abby was cautious, her eyes flicking too often to Clarke; Clarke herself looked grimly determined while the one named Raven looked like there was nothing she’d like more than to slit Lexa’s throat. Lexa was not alarmed by this; she was fairly certain that Indra was looking at Clarke in exactly the same way. It would take time for hate and fear to turn into trust.

“We will all need that strength,” Clarke spoke suddenly into the silence, her eyes first on Lexa but then moving to Indra. “Our people in the mountain need us to work together so we can save them.”

_Clarke understands. As much as Marcus does; possibly more._

Lexa nodded approvingly as Clarke met her gaze again. Clarke, too, had raised her voice just enough so that everyone could hear her, enough so that everybody knew she _meant_ them all to hear her, Skaikru and Trikru alike.

“Then let us begin our journey.”

 

* * *

 

“We must be careful how we do this,” Gustus spoke in Trigedasleng; Lexa could hear the apprehension in his voice but she kept her eyes on the road ahead of them. “They must be instructed in at least some of our ways before the funeral. It will be hard enough already for the people at Tondc to accept their presence assuming that the Skaikru don’t do something to make matters worse.”

“I believe Clarke has enough wisdom to have chosen attendants that she trusts, that she knows will not endanger the alliance with bad behaviour. They need this alliance far more than we do; for us it could be helpful, for them it is life or death.”

“I’m not sure they are all so clear-sighted as you believe her to be, nor so aware of their vulnerability without us. You have now publicly welcomed then, offered them partnership; if they the spit on that, you must-”

“Stop worrying, Gustus,” she cut him off, already well aware of all the issues which were troubling him. “Like you’ve always told me: all alliances are risky.”

“This is not the same as uniting the twelve clans, Heda,” he said, the tension still clear in the undercurrents of his voice. “The Sky People are different, they’re more like the Mountain Men than us. It could kill our coalition.”

“Our coalition, or me?” she replied, knowing that, as always, it was her own safety that he was most concerned with.

“You _are_ the coalition, Heda,” he said and Lexa could feel his eyes burning into her. She turned to meet his gaze, to let him know that she’d heard what he had to say.

“Then do your job and protect me,” she said, facing forwards again, letting her eyes flick briefly across the backs of each Skaikru head. “It is the very fact that they are like the Mountain Men that could make them useful to us. Their knowledge of Mountain Men weapons and technologies is undoubtedly greater than ours and that means they might be able to penetrate the mountain’s defences in ways we could not. You only have to look at Lincoln’s recovery for proof that they have knowledge that we don’t which would be useful to us. Even beyond the fight with the mountain, if their healers have knowledge that can save the lives of my people, an alliance with them is the right thing. I won’t let the chance that it could go wrong stop me from trying.”

“I know, Heda,” he said heavily. “I know.”

They marched on through the day, taking only few breaks. They were making slow progress due to the cart carrying the body and the fact that none of the Skaikru owned or could even ride horses so they had to walk. Much as she told Gustus not to worry, Lexa herself couldn’t help feeling a little uneasy; her desire to get this situation resolved sooner rather than later was strong. Neither the Skaikru nor her own people would be able to move forward freely in this alliance until the bodies had been burned; it would only be then that they could start to work together to bring down the mountain.

At their slower rate of travel, however, they had no chance of getting to Tondc in one day. When they reached the river crossing just passed the two thirds mark of their journey, Lexa looked at the setting sun and called a halt to the day’s travel. No good thing would be achieved by exhausting the Skaikru and making them look weak before they arrived at Tondc.

Before long, fires had been made, tents and bedrolls had been set up. Lexa took a moment to look around, satisfying herself that her people were safe and that appropriate sentries had been placed around the entire camp. As she did so, she could not help but notice Clarke, her bright blonde hair catching the firelight as she picked up her things and walked away from the Skaikru, who had understandably grouped together, towards one of the Trikru fires. She saw the tall one, Bellamy, come after his leader, and Lexa could just about make out his warning as he told Clarke she would be safer back with the Skaikru. She wondered how Clarke would deal with this and took a step closer to listen.

“We need to trust them, Bellamy,” the blonde Skaigada said so softly Lexa almost didn’t hear it. “There _are_ no more sides.”

Lexa continued to observe them for a moment, watching as Clarke lay down her bedroll on the Trikru side of camp and settled herself for sleep; Bellamy hesitated, the flickering light of the fire illuminating his face as he looked from Clarke to where Lexa and Gustus were standing and back again, before he warily followed Clarke’s lead and settled for sleep. Lexa couldn’t help the smallest hint of a smile as she saw the parallel of herself and Gustus being played out before her.

“You see,” she murmured quietly to Gustus in Trigedasleng. “She understands what they must do and they will follow her lead.”

He nodded slowly for a few seconds, taking a deep, sighing breath.

“I hope you are right, Heda.”

 _So do I,_ she thought.

 

* * *

 

“Open the gate!”

 _Here we go_ , Lexa thought bracingly to herself as the cry rang out from within the walls of Tondc. She pulled her horse to a halt, looking meaningfully at Gustus who nodded and dismounted. Lexa took a deep breath, preparing herself for what was undoubtedly coming when they entered the village, before she too dismounted her horse, handing the reigns to one of her warriors and turning to observe the Skaikru as Gustus took their weapons.

She watched as Lincoln took the first step, offering his weapons willingly as he explained the custom.

 _Yes,_ Lexa thought as she watched him and watched the Skaikru accept his example. _I must speak with him about this trust he has gained._

It went relatively smoothly, all things considered. Every Sky Person gave up their weapons without verbal complaint; of course they did not look particularly comfortable doing so but that was to be expected. It had to be noted that Raven, who had ridden on the cart with the murderer the whole journey, whether due to her injury or for other reasons Lexa didn’t know, was again the one showing the most belligerence. She didn’t fight Gustus, but she didn’t offer up her weapons as the others had.

_I must watch her._

Lexa couldn’t help noting that Clarke had glanced back worriedly at Raven as well.

“Heda,” Gustus called to her once he’d finished. “All clear.”

Lexa nodded, turned and led the way into Tondc. She knew these people and she loved these people but she also knew she had to be prepared; the likelihood was that she was going to have to be firm with them.

Cries of welcome met her ears first as her people greeted their Heda, but it was not long before the welcome turned to shock, which was swiftly followed by fierce anger and outrage. Lexa marched through the village, Indra and Gustus beside her as all around, the people of Tondc leapt to their feet, unable to believe what they were seeing, unwilling to accept the Skaikru in their midst. And then it happened, just as she’d known it would.

One of the villagers, Sindri she thought was his name, leapt out in front of her, forcing them to halt. She could see the pain and the fury and the bewildered grief on his face and wished she could soothe him, all the while knowing that he must now become the example, become the proof of how serious she was about this alliance.

“The Sky People took everything from me,” he bellowed in Trigedasleng, his whole body shaking with rage. “My woman, my child!”

Lexa knew better than to let her compassion for his pain show and, as always, Gustus stepped in to lay the first threat.

“Move aside!” Gustus ordered, but though Sindri’s eyes flicked at him, the distraught man did not move.

“Murderers are not welcome here!” he said, his voice rough and shaky with anger.

Lexa knew what must be done. She turned to meet Gustus’ questioning gaze and nodded. The big man didn’t hesitate but strode forward and knocked Sindri to the ground with one hit. Lexa made herself watch as her guard continued to pound his fist into the prone man’s face, knowing that this was the only way to drive the message home quickly.

“Commander!” Suddenly Clarke was at her side, her hushed voice desperate. “Commander, stop him. Please. They'll blame us for this, too.”

Lexa considered for a moment.

_Perhaps she is right._

She couldn’t help feeling slightly impressed by the Skaigada’s foresight and that she had dared to question her methods in this of all moments.

“Let him live,” she ordered Gustus in Trigedasleng and instantly he stood back from the injured man on the floor. Lexa watched for a moment as some of the villagers moved in, helping Sindri to stand, supporting his weight. She turned, casting her eyes across all the people of Tondc, meeting as many eyes as she could, needing them to see that it was her, their Heda, and that she was serious.

“The Sky People march with us now,” she addressed them loud and clearly, holding the gazes of those who looked most disgruntled. “Anyone who tries to stop that will pay with their life.”

She let the message sit for a few moments more before turning again to carry on toward the village centre. She could feel the fear and the distrust bristling in the air, but this village was Trikru: they were Indra’s people and she knew that, no matter how great their distrust of the Skaikru, they would trust in their Heda. They knew now that she was intent on this alliance and felt reasonably assured that the Skaikru would be safe here among them for now.

“Indra,” Lexa said, turning to her general as they reached the village centre. “Take your warriors and eat, then organise a team to build the funeral pyre here. We must pay our respects to the dead soon so that we can move on to saving the living.”

She met Indra’s dark eyes and knew that fury against the Skaikru still boiled in the general.

“Yes, Heda,” she nodded, bowing slightly before turning to leave.

“Indra,” Lexa called her back, grasping her forearm firmly and pulling her close and speaking in Trigedasleng. “I know you don’t trust them and that you don’t approve of this alliance. You should know that I don’t trust them either; all we do here is acknowledge the _fact_ that they have greater knowledge and understanding of the Mountain Men than we do, and that knowledge could be the thing we need to bring down the Mountain.”

Indra took a moment, her eyes darting back and forth between Lexa’s before she nodded again.

“Yes, Heda.” The words and the gesture were the same, but there was much less tension in her voice and in her stance. Lexa nodded too, releasing Indra and turning to the Sky People.

“Come,” she spoke in English again now, gesturing towards the larger building in the village square where meetings and councils were held. “Sit, rest, eat. No plans will be made until after the funeral, until peace has been restored to my village. Go inside; I will join you shortly.”

Her eyes turned to Clarke who nodded and lead the way inside.

“Lincoln, a moment,” Lexa called as the Skaikru filed into the building and watched as the healer turned to her, his eyes flickering back to Octavia who had frozen, anxiety clear on her face as she looked from Lincoln to Lexa and back again.

 _She cares deeply for him_ , Lexa observed as Lincoln quietly reassured the Skaigada, ushering her inside before turning and walking towards his Commander.

“Heda?” he asked, his head dipping in a slight bow as he approached.

“Continue as you are,” she told him quietly. “If we are to truly have peace with the Sky People, we must learn to understand them and they must learn to understand us. At some point, you will tell me all you did to win their trust and all that you have learned by it, but for now, continue to grow that relationship.”

“Heda, I-” Lexa could practically smell the wariness on him.

“I mean to make lasting peace with these people. I believe that the only thing standing in the way of that is a lack of understanding; you seem to be bridging that gap. Continue to do so.”

“Yes, Heda,” he nodded, seeming a little relieved as she sent him on his way.

“Heda,” Gustus’ soft growl sounded beside her. “You must eat as well.”

“Yes, Gustus,” she said with a soft sigh. “But first, I must see my people.” She met his gaze and knew that he understood, even if he didn’t like it.

She began to make her way through the village, meeting with the families and friends of those who had been killed, offering herself for their solace. This was one of the best and the worst things about being Heda: she hurt for every one of her people that hurt, but she was also able to give such comfort just by being there, by sharing in their grief. Even those most upset by the presence of Skaikru were soothed by a word from her, a touch.

Last, but not least, she found her way to the healer’s hut where Nyko was dressing Sindri’s wounds. Nyko looked up as she entered, hesitating a moment before stepping back to give her space. The injured man on the cot looked up too, just for a second before his head dropped in shame.

“Heda,” he whimpered, “I am sorry. I should not-”

“Enough,” she cut him off gently but firmly. “You are grieving and you have paid for your sedition.” She moved closer, holding out her arm for him to grasp which, after a moment’s hesitation he did. “You must know that I grieve just as you do, and that no plans will be made with the Skaikru until the murderer is burned and your loved ones have their peace restored.” She paused, letting him soak this up for a moment before she released him. “You know I would not ally us with them without good reason.”

“I know, Heda,” he nodded, some of the strength and the faith returned to his eyes before he bowed his head. “My Heda, always Heda.”

She nodded, unable not to feel some relief.

“Rest now; I will make sure you are sent for when the fires are to be lit.”

“Thank you, Heda. Thank you.”

She made her way somewhat wearily back to the village square, pleased to see that work had now begun on the pyre. By the way Indra looked at her, the gratitude in her nod, Lexa knew that the villagers had told their chief how the Commander had visited with every family that grieved.

“Heda,” again Gustus’ voice called to her, although a little less gently than usual as his concern rendered him a little impatient. “Your food is prepared.”

“Thank you, Gustus,” she murmured as she passed him and headed for the door of the hut reserved for her use when she visited. She sat at the small table and forced some of the stew down her throat, knowing really that she would feel better for it eventually. Grief was exhausting and, right now, Tondc was brimming with it.

But there was still cause for hope. Even the most deeply grieving amongst her people had taken comfort from her even after her arrival with the Skaikru. And, the Skaikru themselves had not yet done anything to further raise the ire of the villagers. If anything, some of them must have witnessed Clarke’s intervention on Sindri’s behalf which can only have helped. Lexa couldn’t help wondering about the Skaikru leadership; they had said Abby Griffin was their Chancellor but it was becoming more and more apparent that Clarke was the leader, both by her actions and by her apparent superior wisdom.

_Perhaps their leadership passes hereditarily, from mother to daughter. If so, it must be nearing the time for Abby to step down as her daughter grows into her power. That must be why Clarke steps so naturally up to the role and why they all look to her for guidance even though she’s not their official leader._

_If I’m right about this, then really it is Clarke I must ally myself with, not Abby._

A small voice in the back of Lexa’s mind tried to warn her that there was a dangerous reason why she was not unhappy about this, why the thought of winning over Clarke and spending time with her was so appealing.

She shut it down quickly.

Once she had finished eating, Lexa took a breath and braced herself for the next task: briefing the Skaikru. She pushed herself to her feet, composed her features and made her way from her hut to the village hall where the Skaikru awaited her.

“Commander,” Marcus said, rising respectfully to his feet as she entered. The others turned to look but stayed seated.

“Please, sit,” she replied, gesturing him back to his seat. “It seems wise to me that I should inform you of our ritual before it starts. As you said, Clarke, we will all need this alliance to hold.”

She turned her head to the blonde Skaigada and was pleased to see agreement in her face. Raven, and to an extent Bellamy, however, still looked uncomfortable that she was so much as in the room.

“The funeral itself is simple, it will start when everyone from the village has gathered and I will begin it with a few words before lighting the pyre. We will then wait in silence as the dead burn. Our society’s custom is that the first to leave should be one of the grieved, so I would appreciate it if you could all respect that and stay at least until the first of the villagers begin to leave; it will be a sign of your respect for the dead. I will stay until the last person leaves.”

“I’ll stay to the end as well,” Clarke spoke suddenly, her blue eyes fixed on Lexa, hard and determined.

“Thank you,” Lexa nodded her approval. “I think that would be wise. Do you have any questions?”

“How long until it starts?” Abby asked.

“Not long. Indra’s warriors have been building the pyre for some time already and they are nearly finished. The villagers will be beginning to gather even as we speak.”

“Ok,” Clarke mused, her eyes flitting from Lexa to the table and back again, “then we should go now.” She got to her feet and looked around at the other Skaikru, her eyes landing on Raven. “Yes, I know we’re grieving too, but like it or not we need to start earning back some trust. We need this. Finn was the first of us to put his faith in an alliance with the Grounders; he’d want us to make it happen.”

Lexa’s eyebrow twitched at this last revelation and at the barely concealed disgruntled scoffing from Raven, but soon all the Sky People were on their feet and so she lead them back out into the village square. Already the villagers were beginning to crowd around, Sindri among them and supported by two others. There was the faintest of murmurings as the Sky People joined them but, Lexa was pleased to see, it died almost as soon as it started. Before long, the whole village had gathered and Indra arrived with the burning torch. She met her Commander’s eye and nodded.

“People of Tondc,” Lexa began, letting her eyes move along the villagers assembled around the pyre, pain and grief marked in every set of eyes. “In fire we cleanse the pain of the past.” She let it hang for a moment before turning to Indra and receiving the torch from her. She took a breath and was just about to step forward when the idea hit her.

_It’s a risk, but… if it works…_

She turned to face the Skaikru and the blonde girl who was their true leader, holding out the torch.

“Clarke.”

She could see Gustus flinch in the corner of her eye, hear the whisperings of shock from the villagers around her, but she focused on Clarke, willing her to live up to the high expectations Lexa had apparently developed for her. The blonde looked questioningly at the torch for a split second before her eyes rose to Lexa’s face. Lexa nodded almost imperceptibly, but it was enough. Clarke slowly stepped forward, taking the torch from Lexa’s outstretched hand; she glanced at Lexa one more time, as if to check she was understanding her meaning properly, before stepping forward again, up onto the small platform from which she would light the fire. She hesitated for a long moment, during which Lexa had to work hard not to hold her breath, but then slowly, reverently, the Skygirl lifted the torch to the pyre.

“Yu gonplei ste odon,” she murmured, just loud enough to be heard by everybody in the silence.

Lexa’s eyes snapped unstoppably to Clarke who had just surpassed every expectation of quality she had held for her. The younger girl could not have done better with specific tutelage. Forcing her eyes away from the astonishing Skaigada, Lexa could see the shift and the surprise among her people; she was not the only one to have been impressed.

They stayed for several hours. Lexa was pleased to see the Skaikru doing as she’d asked, waiting in silence with her people. Both Raven and Clarke let tears slip down their faces at some point, but they were silent, causing no disruption to the villagers. They did, however, serve to remind her that this murderer, this Finn, had once been a boy and he had been loved. She had seen it enough times to know that battles and fear can do strange things to those not strong enough to take them, no matter how well-meaning they start out. She remembered Clarke’s words that Finn had been the first of the Skaikru to seek peace and realised that that must have been the person Clarke had loved, not the man who massacred an undefended village.

She stood and watched the flames as they ate up the pyre, consuming what was left of 19 people who had been loved, hoping that what Clarke and perhaps Raven felt now did not compare to what she had felt all those years before.

Eventually, the grievers began to disperse, at first leaving in ones and twos, but soon leaving in small groups until it was only Clarke and Lexa left standing before the smouldering remains. She glanced at the Skaigada and couldn’t help noticing the hollow, broken look in her blue eyes, couldn’t help recognising it. She knew that this, this broken shell, was not the Clarke that she needed, the Clarke that would help her build this alliance with strength.

“I lost someone special to me, too,” she began, trying to choose her words carefully and not to let the past rear its dangerous head in the present. “Her name was Costia.” She saw, out of the corner of her eye, Clarke’s head turn in her direction. _She’s listening; good._ “She was captured by the Ice Nation, whose queen believed she knew my secrets.” Lexa paused, gathering herself, refusing to let emotion stop her from teaching Clarke this valuable lesson. “Because she was mine... they tortured her, killed her, cut off her head.”

“I'm sorry,” Clarke said softly, but that wasn’t what Lexa wanted from her so she carried on quickly.

“I thought I'd never get over the pain, but I did.”

“How?”

“By recognizing it for what it is.” _This… this is the important part._ She turned, fixing her eyes on Clarke’s as she stared questioningly back at her. “Weakness.”

“What is? Love?”

Lexa nodded, allowing herself to look away, to find relief again in the smouldering ashes before them.

“So you just stopped caring? About everyone?” Clarke’s incredulity was clear in her voice so Lexa nodded again. “I could never do that.”

“Then you put the people you care about in danger, and the pain will never go away.” This truth was a hard one to learn, but Lexa knew it to be true and was sure that Clarke must learn it too if their alliance was to hold. She turned to face her again, wanting to drive this last point home, hearing Titus’ words resounding in her head as she repeated them. “The dead are gone, Clarke. The living are hungry.”

She waited a few moments, watching as Clarke weighed her words, digested them, and then she turned, striding away from the blonde and the glowing embers, the solace of her empty hut calling to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, let me know what you think :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, another Lexa POV chapter – it’s bizarrely fun rummaging around in what I imagine to be the Commander’s brain, trying to figure out what she’s thinking all the time. She’s way more mysterious than Clarke! Anywho, hope you enjoy the result :)

**Chapter 4**

The tension in the room was pretty high already. Lexa couldn’t suppress a momentary admiration for Octavia’s courage; it was surely courage and her connection with Lincoln that had led her to enter a room full of Trikru warriors a full minute before the rest of the Skaikru delegation would arrive.

Lexa hoped they would arrive soon. It would not do for the Commander and her warriors to be made to wait on them; there was only so much grace Lexa could allow herself to mete out.

But eventually their clunking footsteps could be heard descending the steps into the banquet hall, Clarke, of course, in the lead, followed by Abby, Raven, Bellamy and finally Marcus.

_Even their seating arrangements confirm Clarke’s position; it is she who takes their centre seat, she who sits across from me. Surely she must be their de facto leader._

“Please accept this gift, Commander,” Marcus began once they had all filed into position, holding out a flat glass bottle of clear liquid. “We drink this at special occasions. I believe this qualifies.” There was a sort of hesitantly hopeful half smile on his face as he spoke. Lexa nodded to Gustus, instructing him to receive it for her. She could feel the wariness radiating from her guard as he looked at Marcus, his unsmiling distrust knocking some of the hope from the half smile.

“Thank you, Marcus of the Sky People,” Lexa said after a short inspection of the bottle that Gustus had passed to her. She made sure to meet Marcus’ eye as he had met hers, hoping to show that she received the gesture in the spirit it was offered.

“You're welcome, Lexa, kom Trikru,” he spoke haltingly but with a clear intent. “Just don't drink too much of it.” Lexa couldn’t help but think that his gift and his and Clarke’s attempts at Trigedasleng must surely bode well.

“Clarke,” Lexa spoke again after a moment’s consideration, weighing what she knew and suspected of the Skaikru hierarchy. “Let us drink together.”

“It would be my pleasure,” the blonde Skaigada replied, her blue eyes dropping for a curious moment before fixing resolutely on Lexa’s own.

 _Careful_ , Lexa warned herself, dropping the gaze so that she could pour the drink into the goblets Gustus had set beside her. Having settled herself she looked up again, passing one goblet to Clarke and keeping one for herself.

“Heda, allow me,” came Gustus’ low rumble from her left as she’d known it would. She watched the uneasiness flickering on Clarke’s face and the faces of all the Skaikru as she allowed her guard to take the goblet from her and hoped it was merely the effect of the inevitable tension in the room. There was a definite pulse of relief in Lexa’s stomach as Gustus returned the goblet to her, apparently satisfied.

“Tonight we celebrate our newfound peace,” she began, her tone and volume measured just enough to ring resoundingly around the room as she let her gaze wander across the Skaikru and Trikru before her. “Tomorrow we plan our war.” She paused, fixing her eyes now on Clarke, hoping again that Clarke would meet her expectations. “To those we've lost and to those we shall soon find.”

Just as she’d hoped, Clarke raised her glass to meet the toast, holding Lexa’s gaze for a moment before they both, in unison, raised their glasses to drink.

An explosion of sound erupted from Gustus a split second before the goblet could reach Lexa’s lips. She turned, horror-struck at the convulsions suddenly racking his body as he coughed and spluttered, unable to breathe and collapsing backwards towards the wall. Lexa glanced back across the table, taking in the shock on Clarke’s face and on the faces of those around her, before she turned back to Gustus, quickly abandoning her goblet on the table, fear and anger warring in her chest as she saw her most trusted and loyal warrior being brought low by a poison. Mayhem broke out, the sound of scraping tables and shuffling feet fighting to be heard over the pounding of her heartbeat and her relief as Nyko appeared at Gustus’ side, his eyes and hands moving expertly across the huge man’s frame.

“It's poison,” Nyko confirmed, his eyes meeting Lexa’s for just a moment.

“Indra!” Lexa barked and her general nodded, drawing her sword and rounding on the Skaikru.

“It was the Sky People!” Indra bellowed and in a matter of seconds, the general and her warriors had the Skaikru surrounded and cornered.

“This wasn't us!” Clarke’s voice drew Lexa’s attention for a moment and she glanced up to see the blonde Skaigada pushing against Bellamy’s protective arm, desperation driving her. “You have to know this wasn't us.” The image of Clarke’s shocked face at Gustus’ collapse flashed in her mind, but Lexa couldn’t process that right now.

“Do not let him die!” she roared at Nyko, forcing herself to trust in him to care for Gustus so she could concentrate on how to handle the Skaikru.

“Everybody out,” Indra ordered in Trigedasleng before addressing a couple of her closer warriors. “Search them.”

Lexa glanced back, watching as two of Indra’s men lifted Gustus between them, carrying his limp body from the room as Nyko picked up the poisoned bottle of drink.

“No- No-” Lexa snapped around furiously as Clarke’s voice penetrated her consciousness again. The Sky Girl dared to struggle as Indra’s warriors searched her, trying to force her way forward to Lexa. “No- We didn't do this!” she insisted, but all Lexa could feel was deep fury and raging, frustrated disappointment. She had no doubt in that moment that Clarke and all her people were perfectly as capable of feigning shock as they had been at feigning their desire for this alliance.

“Gustus warned me about you,” she hissed, “but I didn't listen.”

“Lexa, please...”

_How dare she beg? How dare she ask for mercy now?_

“Tell me something, Clarke,” she said, having almost managed to regain control of her voice, almost containing the snarl that longed to burst from her. “When you plunged the knife into the heart of the boy you loved, did you not wish that it was mine?” She watched Clarke’s face, watched the moment when the blonde realised she was unable to deny it.

“Heda,” came the voice of one of Indra’s warriors, Anto. Lexa looked up and saw him holding a small metal cylinder, raising it to his nose and sniffing it. “This was in her coat.” It was at this point Lexa realised that it was Raven that Anto had been searching.

_But of course._

“That's not mine,” Raven protested, looking around as if expecting to be believed. “I'm telling you, that's not mine. He put it there when he searched me.” Her voice rose, accusation layered into it as her desperation grew. Lexa felt the fury boil and condense in her stomach as she looked from Raven, to the metal cylinder Anto had handed her, and finally to Clarke who was shaking her head, as if still trying to convince Lexa of their innocence.

“No Sky Person leaves this room,” Lexa ordered, unable to keep the rage from her voice as she looked around at her warriors before she swept from the room, ignoring Clarke’s pleading look and dashing up the stairs, out into the village centre.

 _He had better still be alive_ , she thought to herself, almost shaking with anger at the Skaikru and at herself as she strode across the square towards the healer’s hut. If Gustus died it would be her fault for having risked his life and her trust on these people who had given her so little reason to take that risk. The fact that she knew deep down that she had definitely registered the deep blue of Clarke’s eyes and the miraculous gold of her hair, did not make Lexa any less furious with herself.

“How is he?” she demanded as she entered Nyko’s hut, somewhat relieved to discover that she had mastered her voice again. Gustus was lying on a cot, apparently unconscious but evidently still breathing as Nyko bustled around him.

“The poison is settling in his chest, I haven’t been able to identify it from the bottle yet-”

“This was found on one of the Sky People,” she said, thrusting the metal cylinder Anto had found into the healer’s hand. “Does that help?”

Nyko lifted the cylinder quickly to his nose, his face screwing up reflexively as he sniffed.

“Vikand? Vikand!” The relief was clear in his sudden wide smile. “He will be fine, Heda,” Nyko assured her, the relaxing of his voice and the certainty in his eyes being just enough to slow the racing of Lexa’s pulse as the healer immediately began to rummage in a crate beside him. “This poison is simple, an extract of vikand root, and I have plenty of antidote for that. He will be as he was in less than an hour, definitely no more than two.”

Lexa watched as he extracted a small bottle from the crate, unstoppered it and poured a small quantity into Gustus’ mouth, gently massaging his throat to make him swallow. The healer sighed in satisfaction as he turned to smile his reassurance at her again. She took a breath, making sure she had control.

“Thank you, Nyko,” she said, her voice quiet and calm and well-regulated again. She gripped his arm for a moment and he met her gaze. “Inform me of any changes.”

“Yes, Heda,” he said with a small bow, and she turned, making her way from his hut and heading straight for the privacy of her own.

_Gustus will be fine._

Lexa breathed deep of that fact as she closed the door of her hut behind her, sinking into the solitude of her chambers, pacing the long room slowly to help her think.

_Gustus will be fine but now I need to decide what to do with the Skaikru._

She sighed, knowing full well what Indra and Gustus would advise, knowing that their advice greatly appealed to the roaring, angry animal that clawed inside her chest at the thought of how close she’d come to losing her most trusted warrior. But now that her immediate fear of losing him had been eased, she knew that fearful, rageful vengeance was not the mark of the clear-headed Commander that she had set herself up to be.

 _Wisdom, compassion and strength,_ she reminded herself and took a deep breath, mentally taking a step back from the situation.

She thought about what she knew: she knew that the poison had been found on Raven, she knew that Raven had always been the most unhappy about the fact that Finn had been made to pay for his crime.

_I know that Clarke had looked worriedly at Raven when they were being searched…perhaps afraid that Raven would try something like this? And I know that Clarke made herself vulnerable to Trikru when we camped last night, and that she-_

_Stop thinking about Clarke!_

She shook her head minutely, clenching her fists for a second as she determined not to let the dangerous influence of those thoughts hold any sway.

 _I_ do _know that Marcus was willing to give his own life to attempt a peace._

She sighed.

_I cannot believe that Marcus would have had anything to do with this._

_…And… And, truly, I do not think that Clarke would, either. I believe that she may have wished to stab me instead of Finn in the heights of emotion, but this was a pre-planned, cold-blooded attempt at murder. Clarke is too intelligent to do this; she knows that I am the reason the Skaikru are not all already dead._

_But if so, then she showed considerable lack of discernment when she chose Raven as one of her attendants._

Lexa clenched her jaw, pushing the blonde Skaigada from her mind.

_Even assuming innocence in... in the Skaikru leaders, this shows that an alliance with them is not stable. If their people are not willing to follow their laws, then I cannot again risk my people any further than I already have._

She paused, weighing unpleasant options in her mind. She was the ruthless, strong and powerful Heda, yes, but she did not like killing without reason. She did not want to order the deaths of people she truly believed to be innocent and not dangerous.

_“Let us leave peacefully, then. We did not arrive here with any wish to drive you out, only to find somewhere to exist. If here is not that place, let us leave so we can find it.”_

Marcus’ words from before an alliance was ever mentioned rang in her mind suddenly.

_So be it._

She refused to acknowledge the tiny, pathetic, mewling voice that whimpered its disappointment that banishing Skaikru from her lands would also therefore banish one particular blue-eyed, golden-haired Skaigada.

Having made her decision, she rummaged through her packs for some food. They had, after all, been about to eat before Raven’s attack and her stomach was growling.

_Gustus will be disappointed if I haven’t eaten._

She snuffed a twitch of a half smile at herself with the realisation that he would also be disappointed if she ate something he hadn’t checked for poisons, especially given recent events, but Lexa was certain that neither Raven nor anybody else would have had access to the rations she kept in her own pack.

Just as she had finished satisfying her stomach, there was a sharp rap at the door.

“Heda,” came a young voice she didn’t recognise. “Nyko has sent me to tell you that Gustus is awake.”

Lexa went to the door and opened it to find a boy of about 12 summers stood before her, nervousness clear on his face.

“Thank you,” she said, meeting his eye and nodding. As often happened in such encounters, the boy blushed and bowed very deeply. Lexa was well practised at not revealing her amusement.

She made her way back to the healer’s hut, keen to see Gustus and assure herself that he really was alright.

“Heda,” Nyko greeted her as she walked through the door. “He is quite well, if a little dehydrated.” Lexa nodded, taking another step into the hut, picking up a water skin and thrusting it at Gustus.

“Thank you, Nyko,” she said to the healer. “You have my gratitude. Gustus, drink,” she ordered her guard. “I want you well and able to witness the death of the girl who tried to kill you.”

“The _Skaikru_ tried to kill _you_ , Heda,” Gustus growled before obediently taking a drink.

“No, Gustus, I believe only Raven did.” She saw him pause, his eyes flicking to hers, and knew he was going to ask after the fate of the rest of Skaikru. “Raven alone will answer for the blood she tried to take, but what little trust I had in all the Skaikru has been broken; our alliance will end and they will be banished.” He took another swallow of water, looking mostly mollified, if not completely satisfied.

“Thank you, Heda,” he said, clearing his throat and pushing himself up from the cot. “I am well now. I am ready to witness your justice at your command.”

Lexa glanced at Nyko to check the truth of this, and the healer nodded his assent.

“Good,” she said brusquely, turning on her heel. “Then the time for justice is now.”

She left the hut and made her way towards Indra, whose guards were watching over the building holding the Skaikru.

“Indra,” she called to her general.

“Heda.”

“Take some of your warriors and bring Raven to me; today she will answer for her crimes in blood.”

“Yes, Heda,” the general nodded, inclining her head slightly, but she carried on with fire in her eyes. “What of the other Skaikru? I beg you, Heda, let me bring them all up here to meet with justice for the destruction they have wrought on our people.”

“No, Indra,” Lexa said firmly, forcing her will into her general. “I will not stoop to vengeance; I will not stoop to massacring those who truly seek peace. Blood will have blood, but then I will allow the Skaikru to leave. You may be the one to deliver the message: they have until Raven’s death to leave our territory. If they are still here then, then their blood will be spilled wherever we find them.”

Indra swallowed, evidently not thrilled by this outcome, but she nodded.

“Yes, Heda.”

Lexa watched her go and found herself hoping that the Skaikru had enough sense to run while they had the chance.

 

* * *

 

“I take no joy in this, Raven,” Lexa said honestly as she approached the girl tied to the post in the centre of the village square. “But this time, justice will be done.”

“I didn't do it,” Raven repeated her lie for the hundredth time as fear made her body shake and her voice crack. “How is that justice?”

Lexa did not relish this form of punishment as some did, although she recognised its effectiveness and necessity. She could not quite keep the distaste from her face as she slowly drew her blade across Raven’s arm, drawing the first blood as was her right, and drawing the first scream of pain from the girl’s throat. She could feel the eyes of the villagers around her fixed on her and hoped that those who had felt cheated of justice from Finn would find whatever catharsis they needed here, let Raven’s painful death have as much meaning as possible.

She stood back and watched as Indra took her turn, glad at last to see some satisfaction on her general’s face after all her grief. Lexa did _not_ relish this for herself, but she recognised its value.

Several minutes passed, Raven’s cries continuing to rend the air as the people of Tondc worked justice upon her. Lexa stayed where she was but allowed her mind to drift slightly, not wishing to soak in the girl’s pain as some did. So it was that she was unaware of the commotion that was brewing behind her until a loud, clear, recognisably throaty voice called:

“Stop!”

All eyes turned to the undeniably impressive figure of Clarke where she stood, her passageway barred by two guards, demanding their attention.

“Let her pass!” Lexa ordered almost before she’d registered her own intention to say it. The guards immediately lowered their spears and Clarke strode passed them, all-but charging up to Lexa with Bellamy, Abby and Kane in her wake, Lincoln and Octavia hanging behind.

“One of your people tried to kill you, Lexa, not one of mine.” The fiery, righteous certainty in Clarke’s eyes made Lexa’s pulse quicken.

“You should've run,” Indra growled as the Skaikru approached.

“I can prove it,” Clarke carried on, looking around and taking the flat glass bottle from Nyko who had appeared beside her. Lexa’s eyes darted from him to the bottle and to Clarke who was rapidly unstoppering the bottle and raising it to her lips. Lexa only just managed to contain the small gasp of confusion that rose in her chest as Clarke began to chug down mouthful after mouthful of the same clear liquid that had just poisoned Gustus.

“Explain,” she demanded, feeling fury at herself pool in her stomach again as she realised she had been wrong, quite possibly deceived by one of her own people.

“The poison wasn't in the bottle,” Clarke said, her certainty mingling now with relief at being heard. “It was in the cup.”

Silence rang for a moment and Lexa realised that the explanation made sense.

“A trick, Heda,” Gustus’ low voice spoke in Trigedasleng behind her. “Do not be fooled.”

_But how. How can this be a Skaikru trick? That is the same bottle; Nyko had the bottle and it was he that gave it to Clarke. He would not side with Skaikru over me._

“It was you.” It was Bellamy’s voice that cut the silence this time and Lexa realised with some incredulity that he was looking at Gustus. “He tested the cup. He searched Raven.”

“Gustus would never harm me,” Lexa stopped him, entirely certain of the truth of her statement.

“You weren't the target,” Bellamy replied quickly, certainly. “The alliance was.”

Lexa felt all her blood freeze as the real and valid possibility that Bellamy could be right settled in her mind. If Gustus thought that an alliance with the Skaikru would put Lexa’s life directly in danger, which he had suggested that he did, then there were no limits to the lengths to which he might go to prevent it.

“We didn't do this,” Clarke murmured, that surety still burning in her eyes, “and you know it.”

Lexa tried to draw as inconspicuous a deep breath as was possible before turning to Gustus, the person she trusted most in the world.

“You have been accused, Gustus,” she said, meeting his eyes and hoping that he would have an explanation and a denial. “Speak true,” she ordered, forcing her voice to hold, to maintain its strength.

The big man took a breath, his gaze rising away from hers for just a moment before he looked her in the eye.

“This alliance would cost you your life, Heda.” He spoke the words simply and calmly in his soft, low voice, but to Lexa it felt like a fist to the stomach, knocking the wind from her. “I could not let that happen.”

It was as if there was a whining, buzzing noise in Lexa’s ears as she tried to process this, tried to run every scenario in her head in an attempt to find a course of action that would not lead to Gustus being tied to the tree with blades being drawn across his skin.

But she knew, knew with the same certainty that Clarke had declared Raven innocent: Gustus must meet his fate here and there was nothing Lexa could do to stop it.

“This treachery will cost you yours,” she said, forcing the words from her mouth, holding his gaze just long enough to see the fractionally miniscule nod of approval that he gave her. “Put him on the tree,” she ordered, slipping into Trigedasleng and holding herself together fiercely as she trained her eyes back on her former guard and closest ally, watching him as he continued to almost imperceptibly nod his proud approval, watching him as he surrendered himself to the warriors who quickly surrounded him.

Her throat felt choked and blocked as they tore Gustus’ armour from him, pinning his unprotected body to the tree and tying him there. The fearful murmurings in the crowd hushed and all eyes flicked to Lexa, for it must be she who began this rite.

She stepped forwards, her eyes raising slightly to meet the familiar dark brown ones of the man in front of her. She watched him take a deep breath and then nod firmly. Lexa could not bring herself to speak, but simply stepped forwards, raising her blade to again take the first blood. She wished that someone, some version of Clarke would appear to cry ‘Stop!’, but knew really that this time there would be no end until Gustus’ spirit had left this life.

She drew her blade along his arm, closing her eyes for a moment in revulsion of this act but quickly gathering herself and stepping back again. She felt pride for him as Gustus held his silence, no cry of pain or shudder of fear escaping him. He simply looked at her, his eyes telling her as clearly as any words could that he was proud of her. She stepped back, allowing Indra to make the next cut, but this time her mind could not wander. She kept her eyes on Gustus, doing all she could to honour him and the sacrifice he was willingly making for her, forcing herself to watch as every blade and every drop of spilt blood weakened him slightly more.

After what seemed like an eternity of pain and blood, the last villager had made their cut and it was time for the final blade, time for Lexa to end it all. Slowly, she walked forwards, keeping her eyes trained on Gustus as she forced oxygen into her lungs, searching for every drop of strength and courage and determination that the Spirit of Heda in her could lend her. Gustus’ weary, bloodshot eyes followed her with an effort and she paused, trying to gather herself.

“Be strong,” he managed to whisper past the blood dripping from his mouth. Lexa could feel the hammering of her heart only increase as he burned his encouragement into her with his eyes, willing her on as she took another deep breath and drew her sword, the sharp grating sound of the metal against its sheath ringing in the silence.

Carefully, she took her stance, lining up her blade and clinging to her determination. She could feel pain and grief like she had not known in years welling up in her chest, trying to burn its way out of her eyes, but she knew she needed to do this. Gustus wanted her to do this.

“Your fight is over.” The words came from her mouth as if someone else had said them, her voice holding on to a level of calm that she did not feel. She shifted her grip on her sword, raised her stance and pushed forward, the keen blade of her sword entering Gustus’ chest with ease, piercing his heart. She held his gaze as a mumbled sigh of mixed pain and relief escaped his lips, his eyes staying focused on her for another second before suddenly he was gone, the life fled from his eyes and his head slumped down against his chest.

_He’s dead._

Lexa couldn’t stop the catch in her breath as she pulled her sword from him, feeling the hollow place inside her chest grow and flourish in the pain roiling through her. She swallowed, taking a moment to compose her features and to be certain she had control of herself before turning and raising her eyes to meet Clarke’s. The Skygirl’s blue eyes were fixed on her, heavy laden with compassion and understanding and, as Lexa held her gaze steadily, a small creeping sense of fear.

_She sees now that this is what it is to be a leader; she sees that a leader cannot afford to love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks so much for reading! Leave a comment and let me know what you think :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we’re back to Clarke’s POV but again I realised I was gonna have a super-long chapter before I got through all the material I thought was gonna go in this one so I’ve chopped it early. It’s a bit of a crazy, slightly frenetic chapter, so I hope you’ve all got plenty of energy drinks, or at least a nice soothing cup of tea!  
> It’s also possible that I may have had more than one beer during the writing of this chapter, so I’ll blame it on that if there’s a bunch more errors than normal…

Clarke was not entirely sure how she’d come to be in this position but had quickly decided that there was no point looking too closely into why she was the one invited to Lexa’s war council while both Kane and her mother, the official leaders of the Ark, had been released back to Camp Jaha with Indra and a troop of Grounder warriors. With Bellamy gone to the mountain and Raven and Octavia gone with Abby, Clarke was left among the Grounders with only Major Byrne around for a little Arker solidarity.

_Major Byrne: the epitome of cuddly comfort…_

_Get your head in the game!_

Bizarrely enough, however, Clarke did not actually feel afraid for her own safety as she descended the steps to the council room. She knew theoretically that she should, that there would be little Byrne could really do if the Grounders turned on her, but somehow she felt pretty certain that Lexa would not let her be harmed. She knew she had earned at least a sliver of the Commander’s respect; the fact that Lexa had singled her out to be present at this war council must be proof of that. 

The rest of the Grounders were a different matter, however.

The tension in the air as Clarke entered the council room was so thick she was almost surprised she could actually walk through it. Of the six or seven of Lexa’s generals present, at least three of them literally bared their teeth at her as she passed.

It was only the Commander’s cool and steady gaze on her that enabled her to walk without trembling knees to join them at the table, to clear her head and focus on the task at hand.

“Clarke,” Lexa greeted her with a small nod before her eyes swept around the room, addressing everybody there. “Today we meet with but one goal: to bring down the Mountain. Every Clan represented here has suffered losses beyond measure at the hands of the Mountain Men and blood _must_ have blood. Now, with the added information that the Skaikru can bring us about the Mountain, we must take this opportunity to bring it down, together.” Lexa paused, her eyes flashing at Clarke again in the dim light of the underground room. Clarke could feel the other Grounders shifting uncomfortably, but knew she was safe and that Lexa understood as well as she did that their chances of success were a thousand times higher if they worked together. “Clarke, please share with the room what you told me yesterday.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Clarke said, inclining her head briefly before she turned her eyes determinedly on the wary Grounders around her. She was glad that Lexa had told her in advance that she would ask her to speak like this as she knew exactly what she was going to say. “Mount Weather is a self-sufficient system with a near-endless supply of power from Philpot Dam, as well as access to food and water. The reason they have hunted you, and now my people too, is that they can’t breathe our air. They haven’t developed resistance to the radiation like we have and so any exposure to the air leads to burns and then death. The only cure they’ve found for this is blood, your people’s and now mine as well.”

Swelling murmurs of outrage rippled through the room for a moment before Lexa silenced them by raising her hand and looking again at Clarke.

“We have also learned,” Clarke continued, “through the radio that _Raven_ fixed, that Mount Weather controls the acid fog.” She looked around, staring forcefully into every hard set of eyes that was glaring mistrustfully at her, wondering if any of them besides Lexa registered the fact that it was Raven they had nearly tortured to death the day before. “The fog is no natural phenomenon, it’s a defence mechanism used by the Mountain Men to prevent you from getting close enough to attack them with any chance of success. In order for us to even start fighting back, we have to find a way of shutting it down.” She looked around, hoping to see some recognition of the significance of her words, but seeing only those hard glares fired back at her. “Also thanks to Raven’s radios, we have managed to receive a message from one of our people held hostage inside the mountain-”

“How can her people possibly be sending messages if they are captives!?” demanded one of the generals suddenly, the ferocity of his glare even harsher than before. “How can we trust in what she says if she lies about this? If it were possible to send messages from the Mountain, one of our people would have done it by now.”

“Not if the method of sending a message required using technology that none of _your_ people know how to use,” Clarke made sure to counter him quickly and firmly. Lexa had told her to expect this, to expect arguments and distrust of her, but to make herself heard. Again, Clarke found herself having to walk the fine line between strength and aggression. “As I said, they used the radios. I’m guessing Monty built one inside the Mountain and used it to send a message that Raven’s radio then picked up.”

There was a brief pause during which Clarke wondered if the Grounders actually knew what a radio was or if she was speaking gobbledegook to them. Lexa had seemed to understand the concept yesterday, but then Lexa was quite obviously a lot smarter than all of her generals combined and may have just inferred the meaning of the word.

“The important point,” Clarke carried on at a sharp look from Lexa, “is that this means that if we can get a man inside the Mountain, we will be able to communicate directly with our people inside and hopefully work out how to disable the acid fog. Bellamy and Lincoln have left this morning for the reaper caves-”

“The reaper caves!?” another of the generals burst out. “Then they will die. No one gets in or out of that Mountain.”

“No one has ever tried with the help of a recovered reaper before,” Clarke retorted, clamping down hard on the jet of ice cold fear in her gut that she may have in fact sent Bellamy to his unnecessary death. “Lincoln was a reaper and he remembers everything that happened to him and everything they made him do. This means that, because my mother’s medical skill was enough to bring him back, we now know more about how to get into the Mountain than any outsider ever has. The fact that nobody’s done it before is irrelevant.”

“This argument is a waste of time,” the first general all but roared, his impatience and frustration clearly growing by the second. “It is simple: they can't breathe our air. Why not just open the door and be done with it? Let them burn!”

Clarke had to work hard not to roll her eyes as the mob-mentality took hold and cries of ‘burn them!’ began to ring around the room.

“No,” she interrupted loudly, glancing from the general to Lexa and back again, “because they have a containment system, multiple airlocks just like we had on the Ark. Our inside man can shut that down.”

“ _If_ he gets inside,” the big grounder retorted argumentatively, his arms crossed over his chest and a sneer on his face.

“What if we shut it down from the outside?” Lexa spoke up, clearly trying to inject a more reasonable tone into the discussion. “You say the dam gives them power. Let's take that away.”

“That dam withstood a nuclear war, Commander,” Clarke rejected the idea somewhat reluctantly. “I highly doubt-”

The argumentative grounder general cut her off with a roar, slamming both his fists into the table and shaking with anger.

“All she offers is no,” he growled at Lexa and Clarke swallowed hard, her eyes fixed on the Commander.

“Quint,” Lexa said as she eyed him, her stance shifting just the tiniest amount. Her voice was quiet after the general’s roar, but the power behind it was incredible. Clarke watched, inescapably awed, as the enormous Quint quickly backed down, a small hint of fear creeping into his face.

“Apologies, Commander,” he said with wary contrition before carrying carefully on, “but the biggest army we've ever had waits for us to give it a mission. The longer that takes, the more of our people die inside that mountain.”

“It's the same for all of us,” Clarke reminded him, trying to bring back awareness that they were on the same side.

“We've lost thousands,” he hissed and Clarke could see the real pain that this caused him. “How many have you lost, girl?” Any compassion Clarke felt for him was quickly swept away by his contempt for her own experience. “She says she has a plan,” he continued, his eyes now fixed back on Lexa. “I say waiting for one man to get inside is not a very good one.”

“I agree with Quint,” said yet another general before Clarke had a chance to speak up. “We have an army. Let's use it.”

“We will,” she insisted, her voice beginning to rise against her will as her frustration at their belligerence grew, “after Bellamy lowers their defences, turns off the acid fog. I don't care how many men you have - if you can't get to your enemy, you can't win.”

“ _You_ are the enemy,” Quint growled at her and Clarke snapped.

“I'm sorry,” she said, layering sarcasm into her voice with a shovel. “Have I done something to offend you?”

“Yes,” he almost sang the word, he relished it so much. He took a few steps closer and Clarke could see Byrne begin to move in the corner of her eye. “You burned my brother alive in a ring of fire.”

Understanding blossomed in Clarke’s mind only to be swept away by her frustration again. She glanced at Byrne and then at Lexa, remembering the Commander’s words about earning respect by making herself heard. She stepped closer to Quint, refusing to be cowed.

“He shouldn't have attacked my ship.”

“You're very brave under the Commander's protection, aren't you?” he murmured and, for the first time, Clarke felt a thrill of real fear run down her spine as his eyes wandered quickly down her body.

“Nou mo,” Lexa’s soft voice was hard as steel as it cut through room. Clarke swallowed but held her ground, fear still clinging to her as Quint continued to stare with an almost hungry hatred at her. Clarke didn’t know what ‘Nou mo’ meant, but she was fairly certain that Lexa had just told Quint to back off; the fact that he hadn’t done so yet was truly worrying.

“Ai ni nou hon hukop, ni kom disha kru,” he said, raising his chin defiantly before stalking back to his original place at the table. Clarke’s heart was pounding and she could feel cold sweat clamming on her back. Swallowing hard, she managed to find enough composure to look at Lexa and could see that the Commander was not happy with Quint’s words, whatever they meant. Her green eyes were fixed on him, calculating and cold.

“Quint is right,” she spoke after a moment but her words shocked Clarke like a punch in the stomach.

_I need_ Lexa _at least to be rational, to be on my side!_

“Waiting for Bellamy is not a plan,” Lexa continued matter-of-factly, her unreadable gaze now fixed on Clarke. “It's a prayer, one that's not likely to be answered.”

Clarke’s mind was reeling at the blow, at the loss of Lexa’s support and the reiteration of her own fear for Bellamy. Anger and frustration welled ferociously in her stomach.

“Excuse me,” she said quickly, well aware that she could do nothing productive with her mind in this state. “I need some air.”

She turned quickly, refusing to meet Lexa’s gaze though she could feel it on her, and made her way up and out of the room, vaguely aware of Byrne following behind her. 

 

* * *

 

Clarke strode through the woods, trying to revel in her apparent solitude and the fresh air, willing it to blow away some of her frustrations. It didn’t help that she’d barely managed to shrug Byrne off and knew that the Major was probably somewhere not far behind, tailing her. And it _really_ didn’t help that she knew her frustration was perfectly justified.

_Why do the Grounders have to be so pig-headedly stupid?! They’ll all be massacred by the fog if they try to just march on Mount Weather before Bellamy stops the acid fog; I thought Lexa had grasped that concept! I_ know _she did, so why the hell is she listening to that idiot, Quint?!_

She heard a small rustling sound to her left and paused. She turned slowly to look and felt cold dread flood through her veins as she saw Quint standing in the ravine below, watching her.

_Oh god. Oh god. Talk about stupid, Clarke._

_Get it together; he wouldn’t dare cross the Commander so far as to actually attack me. He’s just trying to scare me._

_That’s all._

She didn’t sound very convincing even to herself, so she turned quickly and carried on her way, silently pleading with the universe to make him go away. She walked on, forcing herself to keep her eyes forward, to not give him the satisfaction of seeing her afraid.

“Not so brave now are you, Sky Girl?” his taunting voice rang through the air and it was all Clarke could do not to freeze but to keep walking. She swallowed, trying to figure out how much danger she was really in. There was a slightly wider tree a few paces ahead and, as she reached it, she paused, holding her breath for a couple of seconds before moving out from her cover, stepping out determinedly to face him. Except he had disappeared.

_Oh god._

Sweat began to bead on her back again as she remembered how Quint had not immediately backed down the second time Lexa had ordered him to, his hatred and fury overcoming his fear of the Commander. And now she didn’t know where he was and consequently didn’t know which way to go to get away from him.

She looked around, desperately trying to see where he’d gone when the quiet was broken by a soft whistle and a harsh thunk as an arrow buried itself firmly in the wood of a tree just half a metre away from her head.

_Oh god. RUN!_

She ran, not quite able to process what was happening.

_This is insane._

_Am I really going to die now, having survived everything else, am I going to die because this stupid jackass wants revenge and_ I _was too stupid not to realise there was a reason I’m not supposed to wander off alone?_

_Just shut up and run!_

She ran for almost a full minute, trying to keep her mind calm enough to figure out where she was, but growing up on the Ark had not given Clarke the physical endurance for distance running and soon she had to stop, bending over as she heaved oxygen into her lungs. She heard a rustling sound again and her head snapped up to look, drawing her gun as she saw a figure approaching.

The relief she felt when she recognised Byrne was indescribable.

“Byrne,” she panted, her chest still burning, “thank God, Quint-”

And then Byrne turned properly to face her.

If Clarke's relief had been great before, the sheer depths of her terror on seeing the gaping bloody hole where Byrne’s arm should have been, absolutely dwarfed it.

“Save yourself,” Byrne managed to gasp before she collapsed, rolling slightly down the hill before coming to a stop, her dead eyes staring horribly.

Clarke ran. Her mind was blank and her body made of solid fear. She had no idea where she was going or where Quint was, only that she needed to get away, needed to run, needed to be faster.

_He tore her arm- He_ tore _her_ arm _off-_

WHAM!

Clarke felt like she’d been hit by a battering ram, the wind knocked completely from her chest as Quint barrelled into her, crushing her beneath him as they fell. Clarke had never understood the concept of ‘blind panic’ until she felt one of Quint’s large hands wrap around her throat, pressing her hard into the ground as he cut off her air.

“For my brother!” he roared, drawing out a knife and raising it to strike.

_I’m going to die-_

“Ahh!” Quint roared in pain, his grip on Clarke’s throat releasing instantly. She just had time to see the dagger buried to the hilt in his wrist before she realised she had to move, to get up while she could. She shoved him off her, scrambling to her feet and grabbing at her gun.

_Lexa._

Clarke was gasping for air, gasping to try and understand what had just happened and how she was still alive. All she could really understand was that somehow, as if by some bizarre miracle, Lexa had just appeared and saved her life.

_She came out of nowhere._

The Commander walked forward the last few paces, her new guard at her side with his sword drawn and held over Quint. She reached down and yanked her dagger from Quint’s wrist, unflinching as he cried in pain again.

“Jomp em op en yu jomp ai op,” Lexa spoke in her inexplicably powerful quiet voice as she stared down at Quint where he lay at her feet. Clarke’s heart was still pounding so hard she barely noticed the way it leapt at the sight.

“Thank you,” she breathed, hoping Lexa would see the extent of her gratitude in her eyes as she could not find the words to articulate it.

When Lexa looked at her, however, Clarke could see that anger was the main thing burning in the Commander’s eyes.

“Where's your guard?” she asked curtly.

“He killed her,” Clarke replied, her stomach lurching as the image burst into her mind again, the spurting scarlet at Byrne’s shoulder.

“Em ste spichen,” Quint retorted, snarling at Clarke. “Ai gonplei kamp raun em en nou moun.”

Clarke didn’t know the words, but the intensity of his loathing as he twisted around to look at her told her enough.

“Yu gonplei ste odon,” Lexa countered firmly and Clarke recognised those words. Quint snapped around to stare at her, disbelieving, but the implacable calm had returned to Lexa’s face. The Commander turned to look at Clarke, her expression now completely relaxed.

“The kill is yours, Clarke.”

Clarke didn’t know how to compute the Commander’s calm, almost casual tone with the words she was speaking.

Yes, it was Quint and yes, he had just tried to kill her but cold-blooded execution was not something Clarke was prepared for just yet. She stared, the gun heavy in her hand, as Quint struggled to his feet, his wary eyes now fixed on her. Clarke could feel Lexa’s eyes on her too, feel the heavy weight of her expectation.

Clarke was almost relieved to be saved from this decision as a roar suddenly split the air. Her relief quickly disappeared as she registered the way that all three Grounders had immediately tensed in evident fear, turning to search the trees for any visible sign of movement.

“What is that?” she asked, her own fear quickly building.

“Pauna,” Lexa murmured, her eyes still fixed on the distance for a moment before she abruptly drew her sword, slamming it into the back of Quint’s leg so he crashed to the ground. “Run!”

Clarke had never seen Lexa shout like that, never seen her eyes wide with fear. It was perhaps the most terrifying thing she’d seen all day.

They ran, Clarke doing her level best to keep up but becoming increasingly certain that she was slowing them down.

Another impossibly loud roar sounded behind them and another bout of terror shuddered through Clarke’s bones.

“We need to hide,” Lexa called over her shoulder and Clarke wondered for half a split second what this beast could be that Lexa, the fearsome Grounder Commander, would hide from it.

“This way!” Clarke yelled in sudden relief as she saw a small tunnel with a loose grating. “I found something.”

She leapt down to the tunnel and heaved the grating aside just as Lexa and her guard joined her. They made their way as quickly as possible through the darkness, squinting in the bright light as they emerged at the other end. Clarke looked around, taking in the choking smell of death and the buzzing of flies, the skeletons and the blood-stained slabs of concrete.

“What is this place?” she asked, still gasping for breath from their running.

“It's her feeding ground,” Lexa answered after a moment. The three of them stared at each other, silent in horror until yet another roar sounded, even closer than before.

“Let's go!” Clarke yelled, turning and scrambling up over one of the concrete slabs. All she knew was that they needed to keep moving, to get further away, even just to get higher so they could see it coming-

She almost vomited on the spot as she climbed up one more slab and found herself nose to nose with what looked like a half-eaten moose carcass.

She swallowed hard and followed Lexa as she moved passed her, keeping on with the climb across the concrete structure. The two of them just made it to the top when the air itself began to shake with the force of the creature’s roar. She drew her gun as she saw Lexa spin around and draw her sword, green eyes searching the landscape frantically.

_Oh my god._

Time seemed to slow for a moment as something became almost visible in the forest outside the enclosure, something large enough to crumple the trees in its path at a truly alarming rate. And then she saw it.

She’d seen video footage of gorillas before on the Ark but this was surely something else altogether.

_Gorillas aren’t meant to be that big._

She watched in horrified fascination as the beast swung itself easily up and over the wall, almost seeming to hang in mid-air for a second before it crashed down into the enclosure, landing just a level or two below where she and Lexa stood, and completely pulverising Lexa’s guard in a matter of seconds.

_Oh god, oh god, oh god-_

Clarke watched, a frenzied mess of awe and terror flooding her brain as the huge monster pounded its fist into Lexa’s guard and then flung his body effortlessly at a nearby wall, screaming its incomparable mindless rage into the air as it beat its chest.

And then it refocused its rage on them and Clarke remembered that she had a gun in her hand. It was a pretty big target.

She shot it, seeing the blood spray from the animal’s chest, but it barely seemed to even notice, just grabbed half a boulder and hurled it up at them. They both ducked but it smashed against the wall behind them, showering them in rubble. Blinking hard to keep the dust from her eyes, Clarke raised her gun again, this time holding it with both hands, needing both to keep from shaking so hard she’d miss even a target that size, and squeezed off as many rounds as she could, watching as each one sank into the furious black mass of fur that was charging at them.

It tottered for a long moment on the edge of one of the concrete slabs and then crashed backwards over the edge, the vibrations from its impact on the floor shaking through Clarke’s knees.

_Four bullets. It took four bullets to knock that thing down._

Clarke suddenly felt very aware of her limbs, of the fact that her head was still attached to her neck. Her whole body was tingling in fear and shock.

She glanced at Lexa who was staring at where the monster had fallen, disbelief as clear as the fear on her face, and Clarke got the distinct impression that Lexa had never seen anything stop the pauna before.

_Thank god for guns._

No sooner had Clarke thought it than a snarl ripped through the air: it was getting back up. She watched, transfixed, as the giant gorilla pulled itself back up over the concrete slabs, somehow still alive, still howling for their blood.

She felt a hand wrap around her wrist and pull.

“Run!” Lexa cried, tugging her around and only dropping her wrist once Clarke woke from her horrified daze and began to run in earnest.

They ran along a rubble-strewn path, under a bridge and up more stairs, looking for an exit or for somewhere to hide where it would not find them; all they found was a dead end. Clarke peered over the railing and saw it there, a small opening with a hatch held up by a metal pole. The only problem was that there was perhaps a fifteen foot drop between them and it.

Another burst of roaring erupted behind them and they turned to see the gorilla staring at them, having hauled itself up to the top of the concrete structure.

_It’s jump or die._

Clarke jumped, flailing wildly in mid-air for a second before landing with a horrible crunch on the ground below. She clutched at her ankle as she hobbled towards the hatch, already certain that she’d sprained it when-

“Ahh!” Lexa’s cry of pain mingled with the harsh crack of her fall and Clarke spun around, shocked and horrified to see the Commander half-collapsed in pain against the wall having landed terribly. She hobbled quickly back to her, heaving Lexa to her feet and all-but dragging her towards the hatch.

She felt the thump of impact through the ground as the gorilla landed just metres behind them and she almost fell through the hatch in her haste, turning around to help Lexa through after her, but before Lexa was even halfway through the opening, a huge black paw had grabbed her by the ankle and yanked her back.

“Ahh!” Lexa cried in pain again, but somehow she managed to grab hold of the metal pole in the doorway. “Leave me!” she yelled, her voice high and urgent in her pain and terror and something inside Clarke snapped.

“No way,” she yelled back fiercely, grabbing her gun with both hands and firing through the hatch.

_No fracking way am I going to leave you right now._

It worked; the bullets didn’t kill the beast, but they hurt it enough to force it to let go. She grabbed Lexa and hauled her through the hatch, kicking out the pole that held the door open as she did so it slammed down behind them. But they weren’t safe yet; the beast was already pounding at the door. She pulled Lexa’s good arm around her shoulders and slung an arm around her waist, half helping, half carrying her through the passageway until she spotted another slightly sturdier looking door.

“Hold on,” Clarke murmured as she hurriedly urged Lexa on through the door before lowering her to the ground, trying hard not to hear as another cry of pain burst uncontrollably from the usually-stoic Commander’s throat.

“Give me your sword,” she said, trying to gather herself and sound calmer as she pulled Lexa’s sword from the sheath tied to her back, hobbling back to the door and slamming it shut, slotting the sword into the lock grooves.

Her blood was pounding in her head and every cell in her body felt like it might just collapse, utterly exhausted by all the different levels of terror she’d just experienced.

And now there was nowhere left to go. They just had to sit and wait and pray that the beast wouldn’t find them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading, guys; you’re all lovely and wonderful and I don’t think that’s just the beers talking... :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovely people :) Once again, the original plan I had for this chapter in my mind was way too big so I’ve chopped it. I’m beginning to think I should just stop having plans because apparently it’s inevitable that they won’t last once Clarke and Lexa get a hold of them…. Anywho, enjoy!

Clarke turned to Lexa and immediately went into medical mode as she saw pain creasing the Commander’s face, her skin slightly paler than usual as she worked hard to suck oxygen into her lungs. Even in the few seconds that Clarke was assessing her, she could tell that Lexa was trying to bring her body back under her control, trying to deny quite how badly she was hurt.

“Let me look at that,” she said firmly, marching over and crouching to examine Lexa’s injuries. There was a brief moment in which Lexa glared warily at her and Clarke worried that the Commander’s stupid Grounder pride was going to rear its ugly head again, but then the brunette nodded and some of Clarke’s faith in Lexa’s judgement was restored.

Carefully and as gently as she could, Clarke ran her hands across Lexa’s diaphragm and her shoulder, noting her breathing, noting where she winced and feeling the misplaced bone that confirmed her suspicion.

“Your ribs aren’t broken, although you probably bruised them pretty badly. Your shoulder is dislocated though,” she said, hoping that Lexa knew the word.

“I thought so,” Lexa said with really remarkable control of her voice considering the pain she must have been in. “At least it’s simple.” The Commander reached up with her good hand to grasp the joint and Clarke realised with horror that she intended to pop the bone back in herself.

“Don’t be stupid,” she said quickly, grabbing Lexa’s hand before she could get her grip and pulling it away. “You do it wrong and you’ll wreck your shoulder. Let me.”

“I know how to fix this, Clarke,” the Commander almost growled up at her but she made no further protest as Clarke moved closer so she could get the proper grip.

“Brace yourself,” Clarke said, knowing that this was not going to be pleasant without any pain relief; she got the feeling, however, that Lexa had had plenty of experience with this kind of pain.

She pulled hard, experiencing some significant relief as she felt and heard the bone pop back into its socket. She could barely admit it to herself, but the fact that Lexa had scarcely emitted even the slightest hiss of pain _was_ genuinely impressive.

“There,” she said, holding Lexa’s arm with one hand and grabbing the brunette’s free one with the other, bringing it up to support the injured shoulder. “Hold this for a moment while I make you a sling.” The Commander gave her a look that clearly stated she didn’t need to be instructed like a child but she did as Clarke had bid. Clarke tried her best not to roll her eyes and huff; if Lexa could be composed with bruised ribs and a dislocated shoulder, she could sure as hell be composed with a difficult patient.

 _Sling, sling, what can I make into a sling?_ She looked around the room but, not surprisingly, it offered nothing of use. _I guess that means ripping a strip from my jacket._ A lifetime on the Ark had made her hesitant to ruin things like clothes but she knew, really, that things were different now.

She shrugged her jacket from her shoulders and grabbed the base, tugging hard at the material.

 _Oh god_ , _it always looks so easy._

Clarke hoped her blush wasn’t as visible as it felt; she knew Lexa’s eyes were on her and that she was not currently making a very impressive sight, losing a fight against her own jacket.

“Use mine instead,” Lexa suddenly spoke after a few more moments spent watching Clarke fail to tear a strip from her jacket. Clarke looked up, her cheeks burning, but she was slightly relieved to see that if Lexa _was_ amused she at least had the grace not to show it; not that Clarke could even imagine what amusement would look like on the Commander. “The material is relatively easy to tear for just this reason.”

Clarke tried not to think about the implications of the fact that the Grounders even chose the material for their clothes based on the assumption that they would likely find themselves in scenarios where they would receive serious injuries and have no access to medical supplies.

She crouched beside Lexa again, about to grasp at the base of her shirt before she stopped, suddenly hesitant. Apparently the idea of reaching with both hands for Lexa’s waist with the intention of lifting her shirt above what was doubtlessly a rock-solid abdomen of toned muscle was making it hard for Clarke to dismiss the already present blush from her face.

“It may be easier if I am standing,” Lexa said calmly as Clarke’s hesitation lengthened.

“Good idea,” Clarke managed to respond, clearing her throat and deciding to simply ignore the fact that she had definitely just been thinking entirely inappropriate thoughts about the Grounder Commander, of all people.

She shuffled around, one arm reaching around Lexa’s waist while the other gripped her good shoulder, and between them, they managed to get Lexa back on her feet. Once the Commander was standing, Clarke could see that her shirt was long enough below the belt-line that she would easily be able to get a big enough strip from the bottom without getting anywhere near the toned abdomen.

_Get it together, Clarke._

She crouched down beside Lexa and saw that there was already a jagged end on one side of the shirt that looked as if it may have had strips torn before. She grasped it with both hands and tugged firmly, feeling some significant relief as the material tore without too much difficulty. Taking care not to rip more than she needed, Clarke tore the material all the way around the base of the shirt twice to get enough length, murmuring a quiet ‘thanks’ as Lexa rotated helpfully on the spot to give her easy access. She refused to contemplate the fact that Lexa had plenty of toned muscles elsewhere, clearly defined under her skin-tight trousers.

She stood, reaching carefully around Lexa’s shoulders and focusing decidedly on medical thoughts as she formed the sling, pushing the intricate mess of braided thick brown hair out of her way as she worked.

But it _was_ distractingly strange, physical contact with _the Commander_ , especially now that the adrenaline had drained from Clarke’s system and her brain was free to over-analyse. Lexa was always so impassive and untouchable, so, well, literally awe-inspiring; it was strange to discover that her skin was soft and warm, and that there were tiny delicate baby hairs curling at the nape of her neck.

“You should've left me behind,” Lexa spoke suddenly in the silence as Clarke finished tying the sling over her good shoulder. “Now two will die here instead of one.”

There was no stopping Clarke’s eye roll at this. She walked away a few paces, needing a little space between her and this infuriatingly frustrating specimen of a human being.

_How is that seriously what she’s focusing on right now? Is her pride really so wounded at having been saved by me?_

“I'm still new to your culture, but when someone saves your life, my people say thank you.” She used the pretence of examining the bars of the cage as a reason to move away.

“I'm serious, Clarke,” Lexa said, her calm voice only irritating Clarke more as she fruitlessly tugged at the bars. “To lead well, you must make hard choices.”

“Hard choices?” Clarke exclaimed incredulously, unable not to spin around and advance on the woman who had forced her to choose between Finn’s life and the lives of every other person on the Ark, between letting Finn be tortured to death and killing him herself. “You're telling _me_ that?”

“I've seen your strength, it's true,” Lexa conceded even as she advanced on Clarke, “but now you waver. You couldn't kill Quint, you couldn't leave me to die.” She paused, halting where she stood,  her eyes piercing. “That was weakness.”

“I thought love was weakness,” Clarke couldn’t help snarking, turning her back on Lexa, needing the space again.

“Mockery is not the product of a strong mind, Clarke.”

 _Oh my_ god _, has there ever been a more infuriating-_

“You wanna know why I saved you?” she asked, her jaw clenching as she spun again and marched back to Lexa, getting right in her face. “Because I need you. God forbid one of your generals becomes commander.” The thought was enough to make Clarke’s blood run cold. “You may be heartless, Lexa, but at least you're smart.”

_Is she-? She’s smiling?!_

Clarke was so astonished she nearly forgot that she was mad. Somehow, seeing that gentle curve at the corner of Lexa’s mouth and the softening of her green eyes was almost simultaneously more disconcerting and more disarming than she’d have believed possible.

“Don't worry,” the Commander said with that tiniest hint of a smirk which, for her, practically amounted to a cocky grin. “My spirit will choose much more wisely than that.”

“Your spirit?” Clarke was already so thrown by Lexa’s smile that it took her a moment to process the meaning of her words.

“When I die, my spirit will find the next Commander,” Lexa explained matter-of-factly, as if she wasn’t talking of her own death.

“Reincarnation,” Clarke just about remembered the archaic term, implications and questions flooding into her mind. “That's how you became Commander?”

“How are your leaders chosen?” Lexa asked, apparently surprised that Clarke thought there was anything strange about it.

Before Clarke could respond however, a loud bang rattled through the enclosure, swiftly followed by several more as dust began to shake down from the ceiling. She looked to the door and her fears were confirmed: at each bang, the door jumped with the force being thrown at it from the other side. The only thing holding it shut was Lexa’s sword in the lock grooves and with every crash the sword looked weaker and weaker, losing its shape at an alarming rate.

“It found us!” Clarke gasped, unable not to back away towards the bars at the back of the cage. She tried desperately to hold herself together enough to think of a plan; they’d escaped it once, they could do it again.

“Don't be afraid, Clarke,” Lexa said, apparently wanting to give comfort although she too was now gasping as fear-fed adrenaline flooded her body. “Death is not the end.”

_That’s enough!_

“We are not dying here,” Clarke told her fiercely, refusing to let the Commander’s apparent unconcern about her own life defeat them. “I need your spirit to stay where it is.”

“Then get ready to fight,” Lexa replied, fire beginning to burn in her eyes as she hobbled forward and drew her dagger. “He's coming in.”

_We couldn’t kill it with a gun! What the hell does she think she’s gonna do with a tiny dagger, only one functional arm and a significant limp once that thing gets in here with us?_

And then, as she watched the sword bending and shifting, the idea hit her: if it got in, they’d be able to get out.

“Maybe we let it in,” Clarke hissed, excitement at having a plan that might actually work almost making her giddy. “Over here!” she yelled as she rushed to the wall beside the door, ignoring the pain in her own ankle and watching as Lexa limped quickly towards her. She waited for one more crash against the door. “Now!”

She pushed the sword up and out of the lock grooves, her heart in her throat as the door burst open and the pauna practically flew through it, landing in a heap at the far end of the enclosure.

“Go!” she roared, practically throwing the injured Lexa through the doorway and rushing after her, fumbling for the door and slamming the lock shut just before the pauna slammed into it.

The door held, but it shook with every crashing thump as the beast threw itself against the cage.

She looked at Lexa who looked at her, adrenaline and the thrill of fear and success in both their eyes.

“Let's go,” Lexa urged and Clarke nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak yet. She reached an arm around Lexa, not sure that the Commander would accept her help, but fairly certain that they’d move faster if she did. To her relief, the brunette acquiesced quickly, throwing her good arm around Clarke’s shoulders and allowing Clarke to grasp her hand and her hip.

Together they hobbled as fast as they could back through the enclosure out into the feeding ground where they’d had to jump. Clarke let Lexa direct them, trusting more to the Grounder’s sense of geography than her own, and eventually they found their way out of labyrinthine concrete structure and out into the woods, just as the regular crashing bang of the pauna fighting against the door began to lose some of its regularity.

“Do you think it got tired?” Clarke asked, trying not to get her hopes too high.

“Perhaps,” Lexa replied, her face creasing in pain for a moment as she twisted around to glance behind them. “But we would do well not to trust to that.”

“No arguments here,” Clarke agreed, feeling concern rising unbidden in her chest as she watched Lexa quickly master her features and hide her grimace of pain. Clarke could barely feel her own injury anymore, but she wasn’t sure whether that was due to the adrenaline that was doubtless still flooding her body or simply because the damage to her ankle hadn’t been as bad as she’d thought it was.

“Come on,” Lexa urged, moving forwards again. “We’re not going to make it back to Tondc before dark, but we should try and get some decent distance between us and the pauna before we make camp.”

“You don’t think we’ll make it back tonight?” Clarke asked in sharp surprise.

“Look around, Clarke,” Lexa said, her eyes indicating the increasing gloom around them. With a jolt of inexplicable surprise Clarke realised she was right. _We haven’t been gone_ that _long, have we?_ Lexa glanced at her and Clarke thought she saw an almost curiously understanding quirk of her eyebrows. “The season has begun to change,” Lexa explained in a tone that suggested she wasn’t used to having to explain concepts like this to an adult. “Night will come earlier and earlier as we get closer to winter.”

“I- I remember,” Clarke said as Earth Skills lessons suddenly flooded back into her brain.

“You remember?” Another quirk of Lexa’s eyebrows.

“Uh, yeah. On the Ark they taught us all the things that were known about life on Earth so we could pass it on to the next generation. They always intended for future generations to come back, we just didn’t realise it would be this soon.” She paused, glancing across at the Commander as they limped along together, watching as the brunette processed every word. “We didn’t realise that there were still people down here.”

“A rather bold assumption.”

“Are you calling _us_ arrogant?” Clarke asked incredulously.

“To assume you were the only ones capable of surviving…” Lexa left it hanging for a few seconds and Clarke tried furiously to come up with a retort and failed even more furiously. “But I suppose you, your generation at least, have simply been taught to assume this.”

Clarke didn’t even know how to feel about that one, being both insulted and defended by the same person simultaneously was a little much for her already exhausted brain to manage.

“And, what? You think you wouldn’t have assumed it? That you would have believed human life still existed on Earth even after a nuclear war irradiated the entire planet?”

“I cannot say,” Lexa said with a small shrug before wincing in pain at the motion. “I’d like to believe that I am a person able to imagine the possibility of something good even if it is unlikely, that I have faith in the ability of humans to endure and survive, but who knows? Perhaps I have become that person simply because of what I have experienced in this life; maybe before I would not have been.”

Clarke had to work hard not to stare.

_Talking philosophy with the Commander?_

She remembered Kane saying something about Lexa being a ‘visionary’ and had to admit to possibly believing him to be right.

“Honestly,” Clarke said wearily, having to admit defeat as her body began to tell her that her brain was about to fall out her ears, “I don’t think I have enough brain power left to wrap my head around maybes and might-haves right now.”

Clarke saw Lexa glance at her sharply, the corner of her mouth turning up in another of those curiously disarming half-smiles.

“It has been quite an eventful day,” the Commander conceded.

“Oh you know, death and terror on multiple occasions; just another day on the ground.” Clarke realised with another bizarre jolt that she was more or less joking with Lexa and her brain all-but gave up on trying to figure out what was going on and how that had happened. She kept just enough mental awareness to see Lexa’s half-smile get swallowed by a frown.

They walked on for perhaps another mile, maybe two; Clarke still hadn’t quite gotten to grips with estimating distances like that. The time came, however, when it was getting too dark to navigate the uneven forest floor with their injuries and Clarke’s exhaustion began to overcome her.

“Steady-” Lexa called, unsuccessfully attempting to mask her grimace of pain as Clarke tripped and inevitably jostled her, leaning on each other as they were.

“Sorry,” Clarke winced, trying and failing not to feel embarrassed as the much-more-injured brunette helped her regain her balance.

“Perhaps we should make camp here,” Lexa said, already disentangling herself from Clarke as she looked around. “I don’t think we’ll achieve much by keeping going tonight.”

“You’re probably right.” She looked around, spying a broken log. “Sit down against that; I’ll get some firewood.”

“Clarke, I can-”

“Ok, so you remember the part where Sky People were stupid and arrogant to think no other humans could possibly survive? Don’t make me point out the part where Grounders are stupid and full of stupid pride when they refuse to admit any kind of weakness. Today you dislocated your shoulder, probably bruised your ribs and have at least sprained an ankle; you are _not_ in any condition to be fetching and carrying firewood.”

Clarke didn’t even wait around to listen to Lexa’s inevitable objection, simply turned on her heel and wandered off into the surrounding trees, her eyes scanning the floor for suitable bits of wood.

_Just don’t do anything stupid like getting lost or running into murderous, vengeful psychos…_

Before too long, and with more relief than she would ever admit, she made her way back to the log with enough firewood to last them the night. She was slightly surprised to see Lexa sitting obediently on the floor leaning against it, her eyes hard to read as they followed Clarke in the darkness. The blonde was very glad in that moment that she had not only got full marks in her fire-lighting theory test in Earth Skills, but had also taken the time to master the knack of it in practice during her first few weeks on the ground. It felt oddly good to prove to Lexa that she could do this at least.

“I can take the first watch, if you like,” Clarke suggested in what she hoped was an off-hand manner. Every cell in her body was crying out for sleep but with Lexa’s more serious injuries, she really couldn’t expect the brunette to keep awake and alert when Clarke herself was practically drooping.

“You sleep,” Lexa said firmly, her eyes hard in the flickering firelight. “I don’t need it.”

“Lexa,” Clarke started her retort but was quickly cut off.

“I may have pride, Clarke, but it’s based on reality. My life has given me plenty of training for this, yours hasn’t; you need the sleep a lot more than I do.”

At this point Clarke decided she didn’t care enough to argue right now.

_If Lexa wants to do this to herself, that’s her prerogative._

“Fine,” she huffed, half wishing she could gather some of Lexa’s cool impassivity into her voice and half not caring. “Wake me when you get tired.”

“I won’t need to.”

Clarke froze for a second, on the cusp of arguing, but quickly decided against it and carried on clearing a space on the floor near the fire on which to sleep.

“Ok, as long as you don’t drift off and sleep through the pauna waking up and finding us.”

She expected another comeback but Lexa said nothing; soon the only sound was the crackling of the fire and the rustling of light wind in the trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Leave a review and let me know what you thought :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Clarke awoke with a jerk and sat up, her heart beating almost out of her chest in fear at the sound of the roar.

“It's ok,” said a calm, soft voice behind her. “You're safe.”

Clarke turned around to face her and somehow the calmness of Lexa’s voice and the sight of her sitting there, so completely at ease, was enough to bring Clarke’s panic down sufficiently so that she could recognise the fact that the roar that had woken her had come from far, far away.

_She… She looks more concerned about me than anything else._

_And also ridiculously good for someone who hasn’t slept all night._

_And who’s sporting several injuries._

“How's your arm?” Clarke asked once she’d managed to cobble enough brain power together to form words aloud.

“Hurts,” Lexa said simply. If she was honest, Clarke was slightly surprised that the Commander was admitting that much.

_Maybe some of my digs about pride actually hit home._

There was another distant roar and an echoing series of bangs.

“We should go,” Clarke said, looking back in the direction of the noise. “That cage won't hold forever.”

She pushed herself to her feet and was about to start putting out the fire when Lexa spoke again.

“Wait.” The Commander pushed herself to her feet and Clarke almost gaped at her lack of wincing and at the speed with which the significantly injured woman before her had managed to stand up off the ground without any help or any sign of pain. Clarke’s amazement was no less when Lexa came a few steps closer, her face a curiously soft mixture of concern and something that looked strangely like respect and _...what the-_

“I was wrong about you, Clarke,” Lexa said, and Clarke realised with astonishment that she was actually receiving some kind of apology from the Grounder Commander. “Your heart shows no sign of weakness.”

_She must have been thinking some serious thoughts overnight-_

Clarke’s amazed musings were interrupted by another roar and the sound of the pauna pounding against the cage door again.

“‘The cage won't hold’,” Clarke quoted herself aloud as the idea fell into her brain, almost disbelieving excitement bursting in her chest. “I think I know how to take Mount Weather.” Lexa stared at her, her mouth opening in surprise. “We've been trying to get inside, but they've already let us in.”

“What are you talking about?” Lexa asked, shaking her head in confusion.

“Your army is already there, locked in cages. We just need someone on the inside to let them out.”

“Bellamy,” Lexa said quickly and Clarke was pleased to see she’d caught up. “You have faith in him?”

“I do,” Clarke said firmly.

“I hope your faith is well-placed”, Lexa said with just the barest hint that she wasn’t sure that it was, “because if he can't get inside, we can't win.”

“He will,” Clarke said determinedly, hoping that Lexa would trust her faith in Bellamy even if she didn’t trust the man himself, and glad to see that the Commander had apparently come back around, evidently now agreeing that they needed to wait for their inside man for their attack to work. She turned slightly to stomp out the fire, feeling rejuvenated by the hope of a good plan as much as by her sleep. “Lexa, this is gonna work. Come on.”

She turned to offer the Commander her assistance but was somewhat astonished to see that Lexa was already walking past her quite independently, if not quite with her normal gait.

“Lexa,” she called after her, catching up, “are you alright? How are you walking- yesterday you could barely stand-?”

“I heal quickly,” the Commander replied, unconcerned. “It is not fully comfortable yet, but hopefully I will no longer slow us down as I did yesterday.”

 _No,_ Clarke thought with an unstoppable roll of her eyes, _that’ll be my job._

“Ok, but there’s a difference between healing and healing healthily. Don’t make an injury worse than it has to be for the sake of, what? getting back to Tondc and hour, maybe two, earlier.”

“I will be fine, Clarke,” Lexa said, turning her face toward the blonde just enough so she could see that tiny hint of disarming smile. “I appreciate your concern but I have enough experience of injuries such as this to know where my limits are, pride or no.”

_So the pride talk did hit the mark then._

“Besides,” Lexa carried on, “I have a feeling that the sooner we get back, the better. Not only will we be able to start preparations for this plan of yours, but I imagine that there will be at least some worry as to where we are. You were expected back at Camp Jaha yesterday evening, were you not?”

“Uh, yeah,” Clarke conceded, not quite sure how to interpret what looked on the surface like Lexa’s concern for her people’s peace of mind; she couldn’t quite believe it to be that, somehow.

_She is right though: mum is going to be freaking out._

“Well I guess we might as well plan our preparations a bit while we walk,” Clarke suggested, quite agreeing that the sooner she could get off to Camp Jaha and head off the storm of her mother’s fear, the better. “How do we proceed from this point? I know the first thing I need to do is establish contact with Bellamy, but once we’ve got that, what’s the plan with your army?”

“Well,” Lexa said, her head cocked slightly, “I shall send out riders to the leaders of the clans in the area affected by the Mountain and their leaders will come to a summit at Tondc. Once we have them all gathered, we can lay our broader plan before them and work out the details together. The clan leaders all have good minds strategically, so it makes sense to use them when we strategise.”

“It makes sense politically too,” Clarke couldn’t help inserting here, “to make them feel part of the process.”

“Indeed,” Lexa nodded and, not for the first time, Clarke was slightly surprised to hear the Commander admit it. Apparently she’d been assuming that the delicacy of political psychology would not be considered amid brash, strength-based Grounder leadership skills. “I’m hoping- you said that Bellamy and Lincoln set off for the Mountain yesterday, correct?” Clarke nodded. “I’m hoping, that by the time I have all my clan leaders gathered, Bellamy will have made contact with this radio that you spoke of and we will have something concrete to go on.”

Lexa glanced a little uncertainly at Clarke as she said the word ‘radio’, as if checking she had said an unfamiliar word correctly, and the blonde felt sure then that it had indeed been only by inference that the Commander had understood her when she’d told her about the radio two days before.

_When am I going to stop being surprised at how smart she is?_

“Yeah, I would hope that we’ll hear from him today, that’s assuming he hasn’t already made contact with Raven.” She paused, hesitating. “Lexa, do you- do you know what a radio is?”

Lexa looked at her sharply, her brows furrowed.

“I mean, it makes perfect sense if you don’t – I mean, why would you?”

It was odd; she’d been determinedly trying to get Lexa to see the errors of her pride before, but now she felt quite certain that Lexa’s pride was not something she wanted to injure.

“It’s not a term I’m familiar with,” the Commander replied slightly stiffly, “but I’m guessing it is a device that allows long distance communication. Correct?”

“Yeah, it is,” she confirmed, trying not to smile, “though I’m not sure any of your generals at the meeting yesterday managed to work that out as quickly as you did.” Lexa’s face instantly relaxed, her frown replaced by another of those tiny hints of a smile. Now that it had happened a couple of times, Clarke was able to move past her shock just enough to register the fact that it was actually quite sweet.

“Why do you ask?” Lexa inquired, that whisper of a smile still lingering on her face in the softness of her expression.

“I just wondered why you didn’t. Ask, I mean,” she clarified at Lexa’s look of slight confusion.

“I didn’t see the need; I was fairly certain I understood the important point.”

“Okay,” Clarke allowed, drawing out the word a little as she thought how to phrase the next bit. “But just ask next time. You know I would never suggest that you’d ever do anything stupid for the sake of your pride,” Clarke couldn’t not smirk as Lexa's eyebrows shot up, “but it really shouldn’t injure your pride to ask questions that you’ve had no way of knowing the answers to before. Not to mention the fact that there are a thousand more things about your culture and your world that I have no clue about and I have a feeling that this alliance will go much better all around if we are both free to ask questions that help us understand one another.”

Lexa’s eyebrows rose so high for a second they almost disappeared, but then her eyes narrowed, though with just enough of a curl in the corner of her mouth for Clarke to see that she was more amused than offended.

“I agree. What did you want to ask, Clarke?”

“What?” Clarke blustered, not quite sure how Lexa had turned that on her quite so fast or so successfully. _How the hell did she know what I was getting at when even I didn’t realise at first?_

“Ask, Clarke,” Lexa commanded, her voice carefully neutral as usual, leaving Clarke to just imagine her secret smug amusement.

“Well, I, I just-” She stopped, told herself to get a grip and took a breath. “There’re too many to deal with right now, I mean, just learning some of your language would help a lot, not to mention: how the whole clan coalition thing works, what’s the political structure, do you have schools, do you read, how are ‘seconds’ chosen-”

“You wish to speak Trigedasleng?” Lexa cut her off, a softly surprised look in her eyes.

“Is that what you call it, your language?”

“Yes,” Lexa nodded, “and your language is Gonasleng for only warriors speak it among our people. ‘Gona’ means ‘warrior’.”

“What-” Clarke paused, but she had been wondering about this. “What does ‘Yu gonplei ste odon’ mean? I mean, I know it’s- I know-”

“It means, ‘Your fight is over’,” Lexa said gently, cutting her off.

“‘Your fight is over’,” Clarke mused. _That’s beautiful, in a tragic ‘life is but a fight’ kind of way._

“I’m sure we can arrange tuition for those who want to learn, although perhaps it may be best postponed until after this battle with the Mountain.”

Clarke looked at her sharply, entirely unsure whether or not to take this as a good sign, that Lexa too was aiming for peaceful relations well beyond their defeat of the Mountain, or as ominous, that she didn’t think it important enough to get started with right away.

“Was there anything else?” Lexa asked after the silence stretched on for a few moments.

“Well,” Clarke hesitated, knowing this last was necessary no matter how little she wanted to ask it, “it occurred to me that the next couple of days could go a lot better if I could borrow a horse from you and if I knew even vaguely how to ride one. I really ought to get back to Camp Jaha as soon as possible to hear from Bellamy and it’ll mean I can get back to Tondc with news sooner as well-”

“You can borrow a horse, Clarke,” Lexa said as if it was obvious that she would agree to this. “I was already planning to lend you one and send some riders with you too. Pauna are not the only dangers in these woods and I would like it if you made it to Camp Jaha and back in one piece. Just as you do not wish my spirit to pass to one of my generals, I would not wish to have to deal with any of yours in your stead.”

Clarke stared, completely thrown by more than one part of that little speech. She knew there were bits of it that were worthy of some serious processing but her mind came to a screeching Finn-shaped halt before she got anywhere near them. She settled instead for wondering at the bit where Lexa apparently thought that she had generals of her own.

“Lexa,” she began, unsure whether or not it was wise to enlighten the Commander on this point or not, “you do know that I’m not really the leader of Camp Jaha, I’m not the Chancellor-”

“I’m perfectly aware of the fact that you aren’t the ‘Chancellor’,” Lexa said with a weary edge in her voice which suggested she thought this question was slightly patronising, “but I’m also quite aware of the fact that you are the person they all look to when decisions are to be made and action taken. I believe I would be right in thinking that the reason your mother has not handed down her title to you yet has at least something to do with pride.”

Clarke gaped at her for a moment before shaking her head slightly as if to dislodge her own amazement to make way for rational thought.

“It’s not like that, Lexa-”

“Shh!”

Suddenly Lexa grabbed her and pulled her behind a tree with a particularly wide trunk, pressing them both against it as she held her finger to her lips for silence. Clarke had no idea what was going on but could feel the tension in the taller girl’s body as she leaned across her slightly, peering carefully around the tree. Lexa’s heart was pounding; Clarke could feel it against her own chest where they made contact.

And then Clarke realised she could hear the low rumbling mumble of distant voices, so quiet she might almost have imagined it.

_How the hell did she hear that when I was talking right next to her?!_

And then Lexa’s body relaxed, pulling away from Clarke and stepping out from behind the tree.

“It’s ok,” she said to Clarke, her face showing no sign that ten seconds ago she had more or less pounced on the blonde without warning. Clarke tried not to listen to her body’s response to the fact that she had just been suddenly pressed hard up against a tree by a woman who was, purely objectively speaking, outrageously attractive. “They’re from Tondc; they are probably looking for us.”

Clarke took a moment to catch her breath and her composure as Lexa strode further out of cover and hailed the two riders that Clarke could now see were headed towards them. The riders, having now seen their Heda, came swiftly towards them.

“Heda,” one of the riders called out as soon as they were in earshot and at that point Clarke recognised him as Anto, the same Grounder who had searched Raven and found poison on her. She took a breath and somewhat unsuccessfully told herself that he was not directly responsible for what had been done to her friend. “Laik yu klir? Osir-”

“We are fine,” Lexa responded quickly in English and Clarke felt certain that it was for her sake that she did. She also frowned as she registered what Lexa had said and contrasted it with the fact that Lexa had dislocated her shoulder, bruised some ribs and sprained an ankle. “We lost Sefon to the pauna and Quint died at my sword for his treachery, but we have survived and the pauna is confined, for now at least.”

Clarke could see the slightly nervous glances that Anto and his companion sent at each other as Lexa turned away from them, but couldn’t tell whether it was due to mention of the pauna or because of Quint’s fate.

“Clarke,” Lexa continued as she turned back to face her. “Are you ready to learn to ride a horse?”

Clarke’s eyes widened so fast she was half surprised her eyeballs didn’t fall out of their sockets.

“Uh, yeah, uh, I guess, but, there aren’t enough-”

“Anto, Fezan,” Lexa cut her off, turning back to the riders. “We need to get back to Tondc immediately. I will need to borrow your horses; I trust you are prepared to make your way back on foot?”

“Of course, Heda,” they replied in unison; Clarke almost thought they were going to salute. They didn’t salute but they did immediately dismount, leading their rather enormous horses forwards and offering their reins to Lexa.

“Clarke,” Lexa called and the blonde tried to force any fear of the oversized animals from her chest as she approached.

_At least they’re smaller than the pauna._

“You have never ridden before?”

“Not on purpose.”

Lexa looked questioningly at her for a second but seemed to decide that the time for such stories was not now.

“First you need to mount the horse. It was your right ankle that you injured yesterday, correct?”

“Uh, yeah,” Clarke confirmed, slightly surprised that Lexa had picked up on that given her own much more extensive injuries.

“That’s good, because it is your left foot that takes most of the strain when mounting. Come here,” she said and Clarke somewhat warily allowed herself to be directed closer to the horse. “Place your left foot in the stirrup, here; I will keep you steady because your right ankle is not at full strength.” Clarke felt a hand grasp her right hip gently but firmly, twisting her to face towards the horse’s rear. “Lift your foot, Clarke,” Lexa reiterated as Clarke continued to just stand there.

“Like this?” Clarke questioned, feeling incredibly awkward with her body more or less bent double in her attempt to get her foot in the stirrup, horribly aware of the way her backside was sticking out.

“More or less,” Lexa replied.

_She’d better not be smirking._

“Now, grab hold of the reins and a bit of the horse’s mane with your left hand and the back of the saddle with your right and push yourself up into the saddle. Again, I can help you a little.”

“Are you serious? Is it meant to feel this ungainly?!”

“It is for the first few times,” Lexa said and, unless Clarke was very much mistaken, she gave her hip what was supposed to be a reassuring squeeze.

_What the actual f-_

“You’re doing fine. Now push yourself up- Go on-”

Clarke shook her head clear of as many confusing thoughts as she could and focused on the task at hand. She pushed and pulled and heaved, ignoring the twinge in her right ankle as best she could as she lifted off the ground, finding herself balanced precariously on her left foot in the stirrup, not quite able to pull herself the rest of the way up.

And then the barely-there, one-handed grip at her hip slid around the small of her back to her left hip, tightened and pushed; suddenly she was moving up and over the horse’s back with ease, would in fact have toppled all the way over the other side if Lexa hadn’t kept her grip and guided her firmly into the seat of the saddle.

A wave of vertigo swam up through her brain at being suddenly sat so high and she was grateful that Lexa’s evidently ridiculously strong hand didn’t leave her for a few moments more, as if the Commander knew she might need a couple of moments to settle before she’d be alright.

“Are you alright?” Lexa asked with a gentleness that Clarke didn’t quite know what to do with.

“Uh, yeah, I’m good, I just- It feels a little high up here.”

“You’ll get used to it, quicker than you’d think,” Lexa said reassuringly.

“Here’s hoping,” Clarke muttered to herself as Lexa left her side and made her way towards the other horse. She watched as the brunette somehow managed to make it look easy to mount her horse, despite having one arm in a sling, bruised ribs and a sprained ankle.

“Anto, Fezan,” Lexa addressed them. “Your horses will be waiting for you at Tondc.”

“Sha, Heda,” they replied and set off back through the woods.

“Clarke,” the brunette said, turning towards her and somehow conveying her desire to turn to the horse as she did so without any obvious gestures of hands or feet. “Let’s go.”

“Uh-”

“The most important part of riding is to relax your body.” _Easier said than done._ “Just think how much contact there is between your body and the horse’s and then you’ll realise how much you can communicate to them with almost unconscious movement.”

Clarke watched, slightly bewildered, as Lexa’s horse proceeded to walk, stop and turn in a circle on demand without Lexa giving it any obvious instruction.

_Well, this is going to be a disaster._

_Suck it up, Griffin. You quite literally asked for it._

 

* * *

 

It took a few false starts, but before too long Clarke and Lexa were well on their way back to Tondc. Admittedly, Clarke wasn’t anywhere near mastering the instant-psychic connection Lexa seemed to have with the animals and had to actually use her hands and feet to instruct the horse, but it was working well enough.

She’d had a nervy moment when they first graduated from walking to trotting – _Oh fu- oh my- I’m gonna bounce right off this thing!_ – but she conquered it and was then surprised and pleased to discover that cantering was not only much faster, but much smoother and more comfortable too.

“You know,” she called across to Lexa as they cantered along, unable not to feel a thrill at her accomplishment and at the feeling of the wind blowing through her hair, “this isn’t so bad!”

“Indeed,” Lexa replied with that half a hint of a smile again. “I should warn you now that your legs are going to ache for the next little while.”

“Great.” Clarke rolled her eyes but still couldn’t quite wipe the smile from her face at the sensation of wind blowing so freely around her. _Really, you should have warned me before I got on this thing, but hey._

But there was no denying that they were making much faster progress than they would have on foot. It was only an hour, maybe two, before Lexa announced that they were nearly there and they slowed from their canter to a walk.

“So I guess the first thing to do is get me sent back off to Camp Jaha with some of your riders then?” Clarke asked as the village walls came into view through the trees.

“No,” Lexa said with her usual seriousness. “The first thing to do is to get you safely off that horse before we enter the village. Dismounting can be…ungainly if you’re not used to it and, correct me if I’m wrong, but your own pride would not wish you to-”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Lexa,” Clarke said with as much sarcasm as she could pack into her voice.

“We can go in on horseback if you’d like?”

“Shut up,” Clarke snapped crabbily and pulled her horse to a halt. She felt a brief moment of cold fear as she realised that she had just told _the Commander_ to ‘shut up’ and that people probably didn’t usually survive doing that, but saw with some surprise and relief that Lexa did not seem to be taking offence. Apparently surviving the pauna together had not only made Clarke relax way too much around the Grounder, but had made Lexa more lenient than Clarke would have expected her to be. “Ok, so, how do I get off this thing?”

“Watch me,” Lexa said, trotting her horse forward and turning it so she was facing perpendicularly to Clarke. “First, take both feet out of the stirrups, then lean forward so you can support some of your weight with your hands on the front of the saddle. Swing your right leg up and wide over the horse’s rump and then slide to the ground and bend your knees when you land. Try not to kick your horse as you do so, it can be confusing for them.”

Clarke watched as Lexa dismounted in one easy, fluid motion and knew with great and immediate certainty that her legs did not have the strength to do that right now. The Commander turned, throwing her horse’s reins over a nearby tree branch and walked towards Clarke until she was stood right by her left knee.

“It won’t be easy for you to do that right now,” she said, her voice devoid of amusement and Clarke felt a brief and strange moment of guilt for having assumed that Lexa was teasing her when perhaps she wasn’t; perhaps she simply hadn’t wanted Clarke to embarrass herself in front of all of Tondc.

_I mean, I guess it wouldn’t reflect that well on her either; she made an alliance with me after all. It wouldn’t do for the Commander to be making alliances with people so weak and useless they can’t even ride horses._

“I imagine your legs are aching quite a bit already, your stomach muscles too?”

Somehow it was hard to hold onto assumptions of Lexa’s ulterior motives when she was looking up at Clarke with her big green eyes like that, their bigness and greenness not lost in the shadows of war paint.

“Uh, yeah,” Clarke muttered, telling herself firmly that she wasn’t feeling at all flustered and that Lexa’s eyes were having absolutely no effect on her whatsoever.

“That’s to be expected,” Lexa nodded, almost consolingly. “But I want you to try anyway. You just need to get your leg swung up and over; I’ll be able to help you from there.”

“Honestly,” Clarke began hesitantly, feeling reasonably secure that Lexa wouldn’t laugh at her, “I’m not sure I’m going to be able to swing my leg up without kicking her as I go – won’t she start to walk off-?”

“That can happen, but it won’t because I’m stood right here and I’m holding the reins; she’s not going anywhere.”

Clarke met Lexa’s eyes for a moment and found that not only did she have no choice but to trust her, but that she actually did trust her.

She leaned forwards as Lexa had told her to and almost immediately felt the muscles in her stomach protesting. She hadn’t even realised she was using her stomach muscles that much but right now they were _aching_. Then she heaved her right leg up over the horse’s rump and thought for a split second that someone must have set fire to her thighs because her muscles burned so badly.

“Easy now,” Lexa murmured as Clarke gasped in pain and began to slide unsteadily from the saddle.

_There is no way my legs are going to hold me up when I land-_

She hit the floor with a thump but immediately felt Lexa’s right hand wrap around her waist, supporting her weight as her legs struggled to get accustomed to being on the ground again.

“Just take a moment and you’ll be alright,” the Grounder said quietly, her voice so soft and close to Clarke’s ear that the blonde was finding it really hard to ignore the shivering sensation that was running down her spine as a result. It was almost literally impossible not to lean into the strong arm around her; she convinced herself that it really was impossible. “Riding horses uses muscles you really don’t use for anything else; the more you do it, the less you’ll hurt when you do.”

Clarke nodded, feeling more and more desperate to put a little space between her and Lexa by the second.

_This is so not happening._

_Not now._

_Not with Lexa._

_Just because she’s obviously attractive does_ not _mean anything here._

With several levels of effort, she summoned enough strength in her legs to enable her to stand without Lexa’s support. She took a few painful steps, feeling more relieved by the second.

“Are you alright?” Lexa asked from behind her.

“Yup,” Clarke forced her reply through gritted teeth, hoping she’d manage to stop wincing soon. “Yeah, I’m good. We should get going.”

“Ok then.” The brunette walked over to her horse, unhitching its reins from the tree and leading the way towards Tondc.

“Thanks, Lexa,” Clarke said as they approached the village gates. It was strange; Clarke felt an odd little tightness form in her chest at the fact that they were about to rejoin the rest of the world and felt a great need to thank the brunette before they went inside to be surrounded by other people again. Regardless of the confusing mess of thoughts and feelings that Clarke had surrounding the Commander, there was no doubt that Lexa had gone out of her way to make things easier for Clarke, this morning at least.

Lexa glanced back at her for just a second and nodded one of those tiny, all-but-imperceptible nods before they broke the tree line and welcoming shouts of ‘Heda!’ came from the walls; the Commander’s attention immediately fixed itself back on her people.

The gates swung open and the villagers practically swarmed towards them, concern for Lexa clear on their faces and in their voices. The only words Clarke could actually understand were ‘Heda’ and ‘pauna’ but that was plenty enough.

_They really care about her._

“Ai ste kik raun,” Lexa said firmly, holding up her good hand to quieten them. “Ai ste kik raun.”

“Heda,” Nyko appeared, pushing his way to the front of the group. “You are injured. We heard the pauna; how did you survive?”

“Together,” Lexa replied after a moment, pausing before looking around at all the villagers present, glancing at Clarke and back again, and saying firmly, “Ogeda.”

Clarke didn’t know the word, but she was prepared to bet that it meant ‘together’.

“Heda,” Nyko began again as the crowd began to murmur, “your injuries-”

But then he was cut off by a commotion that was making its way quickly towards them down the street.

_Oh god._

“Clarke! Clarke, are you alright?! When you didn’t come back yesterday we thought they’d-”

“Mum, I’m fine,” Clarke tried to cut her mother off before she could be too insulting to the Grounders that surrounded them. “Just a slightly twisted ankle which is a major let off considering the thing that chased us.”

“They said you and the Commander and a few others were missing and that something called a powna had been heard, but I wasn’t sure if they were telling the truth-”

“Mum!” Clarke hissed, wondering if her mother was _trying_ to make as awkward a scene as possible. “It’s a _pauna_ and it’s like a giant mutant gorilla and the Commander and I just about managed to escape it together.” She glanced at Lexa and could see the brunette watching them, just the tiniest hardening of her eyes visible as they rested on Abby; Clarke wasn’t even sure she’d have been able to see it if she hadn’t spent a large portion of the last 24 hours alone with the brunette and had begun to read her a little better.

_I’m pretty sure it means ‘together’ and I really need to smooth this over…_

“Ogeda,” she said and watched Lexa’s eyes shoot back to her, the hardness falling right away to be replaced by something much softer and altogether scarier.

_Nope. Not happening._

“We need to get back to Camp Jaha,” Clarke said quickly, pulling her gaze from Lexa’s and focusing back on her mother. “I need to get in touch with Bellamy-”

“First you must eat, Clarke,” Lexa interrupted her firmly with her powerful quiet voice. “We haven’t eaten in almost 24 hours; it would be foolish to leave it longer when we have supplies available here.”

“Yeah, ok,” Clarke conceded a little impatiently, even though at the mention of ‘eating’ her stomach began to claw at her. Her desire to get distance between Lexa and herself was only increasing; spending so much time alone with the Commander was doing strange things to her brain and she really could not afford that kind of confusion in her head right now. “Some food would be great, but then we really must go.”

“Of course,” Lexa agreed, nodding and firing off rounds of instruction in quick Trigedasleng to several of the Grounders around them. Clarke didn’t know many words but heard her own name and her mother’s and looked enquiringly at Lexa when the Commander had finished. “I have sent for fresh horses for you and several of my warriors to accompany you. Also, if you will follow me-?” she said, turning and gesturing for them to go with her as she walked further into the village, stopping by one of the more well-kept huts in the centre of the village. “This is the hut set aside for my use when I am here. If you will wait inside, food will be brought for you both shortly.”

“What about you?” The question burst out of Clarke before she could really stop herself; she could feel her mother’s eyes on her.

“I will eat later,” Lexa replied, her eyes unreadable. “First I must arrange messages to be sent to the Clan leaders.”

“Lexa-” Clarke cut herself off, not wanting to get into that argument again.

Lexa raised an eyebrow at her, almost daring Clarke to speak her mind and call her out on her stupid pride again but Clarke stopped short, remembering again her desire to put some distance back between them.

_If she wants to starve herself for no good reason, then so be it. I don’t have brain space for this right now._

“Thank you,” Clarke said rather formally, drawing herself up a little. “Who should we speak to about the horses once we’ve eaten?”

“Once my riders have readied themselves and the horses, they will report to you here. They should not be long.”

Even as Lexa spoke, Clarke saw a man walking towards them carrying two steaming bowls of some kind of grainy off-white substance which was presumably to be her breakfast.

_That was nothing if not fast. Good job I’m hungry though; it doesn’t exactly look that appealing._

“Heda,” the man addressed Lexa respectfully. “Dina gon emo Skaikru.” His eyes darted questioningly from Lexa to Clarke and Abby and back again.

“Mochof, Derro,” Lexa murmured with one of her small smiles and the man’s face lit up as if he’d just been given the greatest blessing of his life. He handed the bowls to Clarke and Abby, still smiling widely under the Commander’s notice.

_I think- I think I’ve heard ‘mochof’ before…_

“Mochof,” Clarke said to him carefully, hoping her guess was right. Judging by his surprised reaction and the widening warmth of Lexa’s smile, it was. He nodded at her before inclining a small bow to Lexa and moving away.

“Well done,” Lexa said once he’d left, her eyes steady on Clarke’s.

“It was a guess,” Clarke said, examining her bowl of food as an excuse to drop Lexa’s gaze.

“It was a good guess. You are right that it will benefit our alliance in many ways if you can learn Trigedasleng; I will make sure it is facilitated as soon as is feasible.”

“Thank you,” Clarke said, raising her gaze again. “Mochof.” The look in Lexa’s eyes and the undeniable effect that it had on her, made Clarke wish she hadn’t said it.

“Please,” Lexa said, gesturing to the door behind them. “Go inside. Eat. My riders will report to you soon. I may not see you before you leave, so have a safe journey. I look forward to hearing that Bellamy has achieved his mission.”

“Ok, thank you,” Clarke said, feeling suddenly a little flustered. “I guess I’ll see you in a few days then.”

Lexa nodded and turned to walk away.

“Lexa,” Clarke called quickly, once again unable to stop herself. “Make sure you let Nyko see to your injuries.”

Lexa full on smiled at this; the effect was a little dazzling.

“Of course,” the brunette replied, her eyes lingering on Clarke for a moment more before she left.

_Ohh-kaayy…_

_I reckon I could probably persuade mum or Kane to come here for the summit instead of me once we’ve heard from Bellamy. That seems like a much better idea._

Clarke told herself firmly that if she got away from Lexa for a few days, got her focus back, she’d find the whole idea of being attracted to her as farcically laughable as it really must be. She was almost able to convince herself that the crazed mess of thoughts and feelings spinning through her body as a result of Lexa’s eyes on her were due to the fact that they’d just had a fairly intense 24 hours of pure survival time together.

Almost.

There was just this niggling voice of doubt in the back of her mind that told her things could get very complicated very quickly if she had to get through much more alone time with Lexa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Clarke! She’s so not ready for all the feels and yet how can you spend time with Lexa and not get all the feels!?
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! It felt like there was a lot of me making stuff up in this chapter, so I hope I wasn’t pushing the boundaries of cannon too much – let me know what you think, either way :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter kind of rebelled against me and refused to be cut to any kind of appropriate lengths. I couldn’t even figure out a way of chopping it up satisfactorily so I’m afraid it’s all coming out in one big lump. Sorry about that O_o Good luck, grab some energy drinks and have fun!

_Ugh, again?!_

Clarke pulled her horse to a halt, lurching her way off it with as much grace as she could muster, and marched stiffly to where her mother was crouching beside a small pool of water.

“Mum, why are we stopping?” she asked wearily, trying not to let her frustration show too much.

“You need to drink, too-”

“I'm fine,” Clarke cut her off, waving away the canister of water. “We're almost home.”

 _This is ridiculous. Is she_ trying _to make the Grounders think we’re weak?! We’ve got barely half an hour left before we get back to Camp Jaha-_

With that thought came the realisation that they were in territory that Arkers might be patrolling; the last thing they needed was for the Grounders Lexa had sent with her for protection to attack Arkers they mistook for threats to her safety.

“Our scouts patrol these woods,” she said, turning to the riders behind her. “Be careful where you shoot.”

“Yes, ma'am,” said the Arker guards who’d come with Abby. The Grounders merely nodded their gruff, silent, barely-there nods; Clarke refused to think of Lexa.

“The Grounders listen to you.” Abby’s statement was most definitely a question. Lexa’s theories about the Ark’s leadership and her mother’s pride rose unstoppably in Clarke’s head; she dismissed them as quickly as she could.

“Lexa told them to,” she replied, trying to keep it simple. She watched her mother’s reaction and felt another wave of frustration well in her chest. “We shouldn't have stopped,” she said, trying to refocus. “Mount up,” she called to the riders behind her.

“Clarke-”

“Mum,” Clarke cut her off, losing patience. “I need to get back to that radio to see if Bellamy has made contact.”

“Listen to me,” Abby said, the belief in her own righteousness clear in her eyes. “I know you don't think you need my protection anymore, but you do. You have to trust that I know what's right for us.” Clarke stared, forcing herself to swallow down the loudly protesting voice that said with great certainty that her mother really didn’t have a clue how to make things work with the Grounders, with _Lexa_. “Let's go home,” Abby said and Clarke all-but sighed with relief. Getting back to Camp Jaha to get to the radio was the most important thing right now. “Let's move out!”

Clarke made her way back to her horse, glad that the beast was so placid and obedient despite her clear lack of experience with horses. She heaved herself up into the saddle, trying not to wish that she had a helping hand pushing her up as she went.

Just as she got settled however, a sharp crack and a cry of pain rang out. Clarke jerked around in the saddle and saw one of the Grounders, Peton she thought, slump forward and tumble off his horse.

_A gunshot._

_It wouldn’t have been Arkers-_

“Mountain Men,” she murmured the answer aloud, her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

_If we can catch them, we can get some information._

She urged her horse forward, looking for an opening in the bushes to the side where the shot had come from, another of the Grounders, Rayek, following close behind her. They found the trail quickly and ploughed along it, pushing past bushes and ducking low branches until suddenly the track opened out and Clarke saw one Mountain Man dead and the other on his knees with Octavia’s sword at his throat.

“Finish it!” Indra’s cry rang out.

“Octavia, no!” Clarke managed to call just in time to make the younger girl stop. “He's from Mount Weather; we need to keep him alive. Check to see if he's got a patch kit, we've got to get him back to camp.”

She watched, relieved to see Indra confirming her authority with a nod to the Grounder beside her who then went to help Octavia search the wounded man.

_Did Lexa tell Indra to listen to me, or does Indra also believe I’m the one in charge at Camp Jaha?_

_Since when did Octavia wear Grounder war paint? And take orders from Indra?_

Her musings were interrupted as she saw Octavia leave the writhing and moaning Mountain Man to rummage through his partner’s rucksack. The look on the girl’s face as she pulled some documents from the bag was unmistakably worrying.

“What is that?” Clarke asked as Octavia stared at the paper in her hands.

“Clarke,” the younger girl called back as she stood and held the documents up to Indra first for a moment before making her way towards the blonde. “You and Lexa were the targets.”

Clarke stared, shock and fear pulsing in her stomach as Octavia handed her the photos, the one on the top a clear image of Lexa and herself, their faces circled in red.

_Me and Lexa. Dante tried to kill us. Me._

_Lexa._

“We have to warn the Commander,” Indra spoke, tension heavy in her tone as she gave voice to Clarke’s own thoughts. “Sen op oso mou snap hosa ona Tondc,” she ordered, her eyes moving to Rayek who was still mounted beside Clarke. “Nau!”

Rayek whirled around on his horse and galloped away.

_Lexa will be fine._

_She’ll be fine._

“Clarke,” Octavia’s voice brought her back to the moment and she shook her head.

_Focus._

“We need to get back to Camp Jaha, now,” Clarke said firmly, her eyes flitting to Indra who held her gaze steadily. “One of the riders the Commander sent with me, Peton, got hit by the Mountain Man’s bullet.” She heard a sharp intake of breath from the Grounder general.

“Where is he?” Indra growled.

“This way,” Clarke said, pointing back through the trees. “Follow me. Bring him, please,” she said to the other Grounder who was now patching up the Mountain Man’s suit. “We’ll need to question him.” Again, Indra’s nod gave the go ahead before the general started jogging towards her.

“Take me to Peton.”

Clarke spun her horse around as quickly as she could, almost no longer even impressed by Grounder physical prowess as Indra kept up with her horse as they made their way back to the road.

“My mother is with them; she’ll be doing everything she can to keep him alive.”

She’d hoped to comfort Indra, but the general showed no sign she’d even heard her.

_Please let him still be alive._

 

* * *

 

“This guy is from Mount Weather,” she told Jackson as they lowered the now-unconscious man onto a gurney. “We need to keep him alive.” Clarke tried not to wince with her sudden fierce hope that Indra’s eyes weren’t on her as she said it. She was glad that Peton was in her mother’s hands and not her own; Abby had her faults and her judgement was sometimes lacking, but almost never in the medical room.

“Lock him down,” Jackson instructed calmly. “Pull.”

“There was a tear in his suit,” Clarke explained, as Jackson surveyed the burned man through his mask, “but we fixed it in the field.” She caught sight of a familiar red jacket in her peripheral vision and realised that Raven was approaching. “Anything from Bellamy?” she asked, her heart pounding in her throat.

“No,” Raven replied, worry evident in her tone.

“Then why aren't you at the radio?” Clarke exploded, the tension thrumming through her body and making her snap.

“Octavia just took my place,” Raven defended herself, her voice rising righteously over the syllables. “How about you back off?”

At that moment Jackson reached for the Mountain Man’s mask-

“No!” Clarke stopped him just in time, cold sweat trickling down her spine. “Leave it on. It's the only thing keeping him alive.”

“Well, how can we treat a guy if we can't touch him?” Jackson protested even as he backed off.

 _Crap._ Clarke’s brain seemed to freeze, completely useless.

“I can rig up some scrubbers in the airlock,” Raven suggested and Clarke could have hugged her. “Give me 20 minutes,” she said confidently before striding away as purposefully as her damaged leg would allow her.

“Damn it!” Abby’s hissed expletive cut across the room and Jackson left the Mountain Man to assist her. “I'm losing him. I need the blood now!” Clarke felt her stomach sinking as she realised that Indra was about to lose another warrior to a bullet because of her. She watched as her mother lost the battle, resorted to exhorting the dying man to fight and finally had to admit defeat. He was dead.

Indra marched slowly towards the fallen warrior, her face dark and solemn.

“Yu gonplei ste odon,” she murmured as she drew her knife and cut a length of one of Peton’s braids. She stood there, her hand resting gently on the dead man’s head for a moment before her gaze slid sideways towards Clarke.

_Oh god._

“A killer lives while a warrior dies?” the general growled as she stalked towards Clarke, anger rippling across her shoulders. “This is your way?”

“I'm sorry, Indra,” Clarke replied, cramming as much sincerity into her voice as she could as she forced herself to hold her ground, “but he can help us beat Mount Weather.”

“Then let me make him talk,” Indra’s voice took on a deadly softness, almost like Lexa’s.

“No,” Clarke replied firmly. “We're not torturing him.” Images of what had been done to Lincoln flashed through her mind and she swore she’d never let that happen again if she could stop it.

“Clarke's right,” her mother said as she reappeared beside Indra. “He might just talk because we saved his life.” Clarke had to work hard not to groan; she could practically hear Indra’s disgust before she even spoke.

“You people are so weak,” the general hissed, turning and marching away out of the med bay.

Clarke took a deep breath and reminded herself that it wouldn’t matter what Indra thought as long as she could keep Lexa on her side, as long as Bellamy could prove her faith in him to be justified.

_Oh god, please don’t let the Mountain Men have killed Lexa, please let her be-_

_Focus!_

She felt before she saw her mother sidling up to her.

“Are you ok?” Abby asked gently, as if there was any possibility of being what they’d used to define as ‘ok’ back before they got thrown down onto this warzone of a world. Clarke decided she didn’t have enough space in her brain to deal with stupid questions like that.

“He's gonna need a transfusion with our blood,” she said calmly and firmly, directing the instruction to Jackson who stood across the gurney from her.

“I'll type him as soon as we can take off that suit,” he replied and Clarke nodded, glad that there was nothing left for her to do in here right now, that she had nothing keeping her here in her mother’s domain.

She turned to leave but a firm hand caught her elbow, holding her back.

“Someone tried to kill you today,” Abby said, forcing Clarke to meet her gaze. “It's ok if you're upset.”

Clarke wanted to scream at her.

_How does she not understand that that’s pretty much what happens every day here?! We’ve been under attack one way or another from the moment they sent us down here! It doesn’t stop!_

A phrase popped into her mind suddenly: _‘Just another day on the ground’_. She’d smiled when she said it to Lexa yesterday because she knew Lexa understood; Lexa knew that the reality of life on the ground was that it was pretty much always fraught with danger.

“Just another day on the ground,” Clarke flung the words at her mother as politely as she could, knowing full well that her mother would be shocked and hurt and god-only-knew what else; it would be enough to make escaping her that bit more possible. “I'll be in Engineering waiting for Bellamy to radio. Let me know when he wakes up.”

She strode away firmly, leaving her mother staring dumfounded behind her.

_She’s got to understand. If she’s going to be Chancellor and try and make important decisions, she’s got to understand what being on the ground means._

 

* * *

 

“Staring at the thing won’t make it talk to you any sooner.”

Clarke tore her eyes from the radio to where Raven was tinkering with something at the table. She swallowed, well aware that the mechanic was right, but no more able to move away from the radio.

“So much depends on this, Raven,” she muttered, pressing her knuckles into her eyes for a moment to relieve the pressure of a headache that was building there. “I need to talk to Bellamy.”

“As if you hadn’t already made it abundantly clear that hearing from him is the most important thing in your day today,” Raven snarked with an almost lazy roll of her eyes. “All I’m saying is there’s no point wearing yourself ragged stressing over something you have can have no effect on.”

“Any word?” came Monroe’s agitated question as she strode into the room. Clarke was slightly relieved to have a buffer between her and Raven right now.

“Nothing,” she replied heavily as her chest tightened again.

 _Come on Bellamy; I need you to make contact so we can get started on this plan. Lexa’s depending on- We’re_ all _depending on this!_

“Damn,” Monroe sighed, the hopeful tension dropping from her shoulders. “I’ve been sent to tell you: the Mountain Man’s awake.”

Clarke’s eyes widened and she leapt to her feet, a little more cold seeping into her blood.

“He’s awake? I’ve gotta-” she strode to the doorway, only pausing on the threshold to say, “Let me know if-”

“Don’t worry,” Raven cut her off with an epic eye roll. “We’ll tell you if Bellamy makes contact.”

“Right, thanks,” she said, hoping her quick smile didn’t come across as awkwardly as it had felt. She dashed out of the room and away from Raven; she wished the air didn’t feel thick and heavy between them all the time now, but she didn’t have any idea how to fix it.

 _This Mountain Man better have some good intel,_ she thought to herself, trying to refocus, _something to make Indra see it was worth saving his life._

She rounded the corner just in time to see Kane approaching the door, her mother leaning against a wall, watching.

“Hey,” she called out as she approached. “Has he said anything yet?”

“No, we’re just starting now,” Abby replied, a frown crossing her face at Clarke’s approach. After a moment her eyes flicked back to Kane and she nodded. He walked over and pressed the intercom button.

“Can you hear me in there?” Kane started, knocking on the window to make sure they got the man’s attention. The Mountain Man sat up on the gurney and faced them. Clarke wondered if she’d seen him in the Mountain but quickly dismissed the thought. “What’s your name?”

“Carl Emerson,” he said, his voice a little groggy but clear enough. “Mount Weather security detail.”

“Ok, Carl,” Kane nodded and Clarke felt a brief moment of hope that this might actually work out. “I’m Marcus Kane, that’s Abby Griffin, and that is Clarke Griffin, but I think you already know that.” The Mountain Man just stared back silently at them. “We found the photos in your rucksack. We know you were targeting Clarke and the Commander. Can you tell us why?”

Emerson’s silence only dragged on and Clarke’s eyes were drawn unstoppably to the various items on the table beside her that had been taken from his bag, particularly to the pile of photos.

“Do you know if the team sent after the Commander was successful?” she asked before she could stop herself. Emerson’s eyes landed on her but they gave nothing away. Clarke swallowed. She could feel her mother’s frown on her.

“Please answer the question,” Kane said firmly after a few more moments’ silence.

“Carl Emerson, Mount Weather security detail.”

He was like some kind of strange robot stuck on repeat. Clarke swallowed, her eyes drawn back to the photos again. She picked them up, flicking through them until she came to the one that made her chest squeeze, the one of Lexa and herself all circled in deadly red.

“As you already said.” Kane was evidently losing patience. “You don't seem to be grasping the situation here. You should've died in the woods. We saved your life. Why not help us bring an end to all this?”

“Carl Emerson, Mount Weather security detail.”

“He's not gonna talk,” Clarke spoke into the boiling silence. She’d seen the Mountain Man’s facial expression when Kane said they’d saved his life; she knew what it meant.

“He will if we open the door,” Kane practically growled, his eyes fixed on Emerson. Clarke raised an eyebrow but was fairly certain Kane wasn’t going to follow through on that threat and her eyes returned to the photo in her hand.

The beeping of the intercom made her look up again and she saw her mother standing by it, glaring at Kane indignantly.

“We are not doing that,” she hissed at him.

“We need to know what he knows,” Kane hissed back.

Clarke wanted to roll her eyes. It was extremely tempting to point out that she and Bellamy had already had this discussion over Lincoln weeks ago. Her eyes drifted across the other contents of Emerson’s bag and landed on a small metal cylinder that looked familiar.

 _That’s one of those tone generators that they used to control the reapers,_ she realised with a jolt.

“Vulnerabilities,” Kane carried on and Clarke was brought back to the fact that they were still arguing over something that she knew very well how it ended, “troop numbers.”

“She's right,” Clarke cut in, not wanting to waste any more time on this. She didn’t often come out in support of her mother in arguments, but she _was_ right on this one. “Torture doesn't work.”

“Clarke, it could save your friends-” Kane protested, clearly not understanding the concept that torture was not only inhumane, but ineffectual.

“I'm the Chancellor,” Abby hissed, spinning around and jabbing a finger at him in the air; it was like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“Then act like one!” Kane hissed back. “I told you I would support you as long as I believed that you were doing the right thing.”

“I am,” Abby insisted, “and if you disagree, convene a vote and take my place.”

_Oh god._

“I don't give a _damn_ about the title,” Kane exclaimed and in that moment Clarke saw that he understood the situation better than her mother did, even if he was wrong on how to deal with Emerson. “I just want to save our people.”

“So do I,” Abby practically huffed. Clarke quite understood why Kane chose that moment to storm away as his frustration got the better of him. There was a moment of ringing silence before Abby turned to the guard who was stood by the airlock door. “I want this man under 24-hour guard. Is that clear?”

The guard nodded and Abby turned to Clarke. Clarke looked into her mother’s face, saw her searching for something to say or for some kind of defiance in Clarke for her to squash, before she too turned and stormed away.

 _Well that was effective_ , Clarke thought, shaking her head a little hopelessly as her gaze ran back to Emerson, slightly disconcerted to see him watching her.

But she _had_ found out something useful from watching the exchange, something worrying, but useful: the Mountain Men’s ‘security detail’ had been at least as hardened as the Grounders had by the last century spent surviving Earth. They dressed up their brutality better, hid their harshness better, but she saw the same ferociously defiant determination in Emerson’s eyes as she’d seen in many of the Grounders. Not only did this mean he wouldn’t talk, but it meant that the Mountain Men were at least as dangerous as the Grounders, if not more so because the Grounders didn’t use guns.

It was a chilling thought.

_It makes sense though; only a people hardened by survival could keep other people in cages to drain their blood, or turn men into reapers with a drug._

_The reapers._

That at least was something concrete she’d be able to show to Indra; if Raven could replicate the tone generator, and Clarke would bet her life that she could, then they’d have a way to control the reapers without hurting them. Between that and her mother’s proven ability to rehabilitate reapers, that must surely go some way to repairing things with the angry Grounder general.

She turned and made her way back to Engineering, telling herself firmly that she didn’t need to feel anxious about seeing Raven. She liked the other girl; she had a hell of a lot of respect for her. It was only difficult because every time she looked at Raven she could see all the damage that she, Clarke, had done to her.

 _Get over yourself, Griffin,_ she told herself firmly and strode into the room, trying to ignore the desperate hope in her chest that Monroe would still be there.

“Raven, hey,” she said as she walked in, her heart dropping unstoppably as she saw that the older girl was the only one in there.

“He hasn’t made contact,” Raven said wearily, not looking up from what she was doing.

“I figured,” Clarke said, unable not to heave her own sigh. “I have a job for you.” She realised she’d phrased that incorrectly the moment Raven swivelled around to face her, an eyebrow raised in scornful challenge. “Have a look at this,” Clarke said hurriedly, handing the tone generator to the mechanic who took it after a moment’s hesitation. “I got this from the Mountain Man’s rucksack. They use them to control the reapers.” A look of understanding dawned quickly on Raven’s face. “Do you think you can make more?”

The mechanic turned her focus to the tone generator, flipping it around in her hands a few times before she flicked the switch. They both winced as the high pitched whine burst into the air.

“Yeah,” Raven said, switching it off again. “I can totally replicate this frequency.”

“Good,” Clarke said with some relief as she paced behind her. “If we can neutralize the Reapers, the tunnels are an option. Get on it.” Again she almost winced as soon as she said it.

_Why must I lose any sense of tact around her, of all people?!_

“You don't need to give me orders, Clarke,” Raven snapped, tension clear in her posture even as she kept her eyes fixed on the device. “I got this.”

“Raven!” Clarke was glad of Octavia’s interrupting cry as the younger girl came running down the corridor to join them. “Any word from Bellamy?”

“Nothing yet,” the mechanic replied, all the anger dropped from her voice as she turned to Octavia, softness and sympathy flooding her gaze.

“Lincoln’s still missing, too,” Octavia said, fear shaking her voice as she closed her eyes for a second. “He should be back by now.”

“They'll be ok,” Clarke said firmly, wrapping a hand around Octavia’s arm in an attempt to reassure her.

“They better be,” Raven said darkly. “Your whole plan rests on Bellamy getting in.”

“He will,” Clarke retorted, her own ire rising. She could take Raven doubting her, but doing so about this in front of an already-distressed Octavia was not on.

Before she could come up with anything to say to Raven however, the P.A. chimed through the air with a summons for her and Kane to the airlock where the Mountain Man was being kept. She could not afford to miss whatever was happening down there.

“We'll finish this later,” she said, her eyes resting on the back of Raven’s head for a second before she glanced at Octavia and dashed out of the room.

She made it to the airlock corridor just as Kane arrived from the other direction, both of them striding quickly along the metal walkway. She met his eye a little warily but took his silence with relief as they both turned towards the airlock and walked to where her mother was waiting for them together.

“Did he say something?” Kane asked as they approached.

“No,” Abby said, turning to them with a sigh, one hand on her hip. “But his blood did. Jackson found genetic marker anomalies that can only come from someone who was born on the Ark.” As she spoke, Abby’s eyes flitted from Kane’s to Clarke’s and back again, as if she knew Clarke would understand what this meant before Kane did.

“It's started,” Clarke choked out, her blood freezing in her veins. All she could think of was all the time she’d wasted since her escape from the Mountain. So much time wasted on so many fruitless things when the people who had needed her were being drained of their blood.

“It didn't come from the blood transfusion that we gave him?” Kane asked, the ridiculousness of this question bringing Clarke back from her thoughts.

“No,” Abby replied, as of course she would. “I took the sample before that.”

“They're bleeding my friends,” Clarke ground out, fury blossoming in her chest like billowing flame.

“We don't know that-”

“Yes, we do,” Clarke cut off his absurd attempt to calm her. “We were genetically engineered. They weren't.”

She strode forward, a red haze of raging hatred rising around her, her eyes fixed on the air lock control.

“What are you doing?” Kane demanded, grabbing her by the arm.

“Killing him,” she answered simply and tried to walk on but he tightened his grip, holding her back. “Get out of my way, Kane!”

“Calm down,” he said, as if he hadn’t been the one to threaten opening the door just an hour earlier.

“Clarke,” Abby said sharply, stepping forward. “You are not in charge here.” Her eyes met Clarke’s and Clarke wanted to roar her frustration. “We do things my way.”

She stared at her mother and at Kane, taking in the guards by the airlock door and knew she’d be fighting a losing battle if she tried again.

 _Besides, we’ve already lost_ , the thought reared its ugly head and the fight went out of her. _They’re probably all already dead._

With that gut-punching thought, she dropped her resistance and walked away, despair rising as the faces of her missing friends rose in her mind.

She walked back through the Ark’s hallways, not really knowing where she was going until she found herself striding through the doorway to Engineering, taking some weird comfort in the fact that Raven might blame her for wasting time as much as she did.

“We're too late,” she said, anger at herself beginning to bubble up again as she spoke. Raven twisted in her chair to face her, horror filling her eyes. “They're already bleeding them.” The loop of Jasper’s voice on the radio reached the part where it said Harper might be dead and they didn’t know how much time they had left. Clarke wanted to be sick. “It's over.”

“No,” the older girl said suddenly, standing up to glare at Clarke properly. “You don't get to give up, Clarke,” she said, her voice rising and cracking in her anger. “You killed Finn and I didn't give up.” Clarke gaped at her, feeling like she’d been punched in the stomach. “I'm building a damn tone generator. You do your job.”

“What is my job?” she demanded to know, feeling overwhelmed by the insanity of the fact that people seemed to expect her to know what to do, to know what was going on.

“I don't know,” Raven yelled back, “to come up with something!”

“I _have_ tried-”

At that moment, Jasper’s loop cut out and the voice they’d all been waiting to hear rang out through the radio; Clarke thought her heart might have just stopped. 

“Camp Jaha, this is Mount Weather,” Bellamy’s voice came fuzzing across the airwaves, shocking them out of their argument. Raven spun around in shock, reaching jerkily to fine-tune the frequency and clear up the transmission. “Can anyone read me?”

“Holy crap,” Raven breathed, her voice low and serious.

“Camp Jaha, this is Mount Weather,” Bellamy began to repeat and Clarke looked at the mechanic beside her, not trusting herself to grab the right bit of kit without interrupting the transmission. “Can anyone read me?” Thankfully, Raven deciphered her hesitation quickly, grabbing the microphone and handing it to Clarke.

“Bellamy?” she spoke into it, her voice shaking a little.

“Clarke?”

Relief was like cool water in her parched mouth.

“Are you all right?”

“I'm fine,” he replied quickly. “That's it for the good news. We have to talk fast. Something has changed. Jasper, Monty, everyone, they just locked them in the dorm.”

“But they're alive, all of them?” She hardly dared to believe but-

“I think so, for now.” Clarke felt like her chest might explode. “Maya says that they're already using their blood, and things are gonna get ugly in here real fast.” The joy was short-lived.

“Maya is with you?”

“She helped me escape,” he said and Clarke hoped that someday she’d get the chance to truly apologise to the mountain girl for her behaviour before. “If not for her, I'd be dead. And, Clarke, there are kids in here.” She could practically see him swallowing heavily. “We need a plan that doesn't kill everyone. Please tell me we have one.”

“I hear you,” she said, hoping he’d understand, “but we can't do anything until you disable the acid fog. Raven is gonna help you.” She glanced across and saw Raven silently nod her agreement; it felt oddly wonderful to have her support.

“Got it. What else?”

_Thank god for pauna._

“You have to figure out a way to free the Grounder prisoners,” she said firmly, remembering the rows and rows of trapped Grounders caged inside the Mountain. “There's a whole army inside that Mountain, and they don't even realize it.”

“Trojan horse,” he summed and she was glad to hear he’d understood so quickly. “Good plan.”

“What does Maya think?” Clarke asked, knowing that the girl would have a much better understanding of what was really achievable than either of them would. “Is it doable?”

There was a slight pause.

“She says it's not a problem.” Clarke really hoped she was right. “Look, if I'm gonna pull this off, I need you to buy me some time. It won't be long before they realize I don't belong here, and if that happens-”

“That can't happen,” Clarke cut him off, her mind already firing as a possible plan rose swiftly in her mind. “I'll come up with something.” She glanced across as she felt Raven’s eyes on her and saw the older girl almost smirking at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Come up with it quick,” Bellamy’s slightly gravelled voice responded.

“Copy that,” she agreed fervently. “And, Bellamy?”

“Yeah?”

“You came through.” She couldn’t help a small proud smile, thinking of how far he’d come, of how much he’d proved himself capable of.

“All I've done so far is not get killed,” he said with uncharacteristic self-deprecation.

“Keep doing that,” she ordered him, considering it to be a fair achievement in itself. She handed the radio back to Raven, her plan solidifying in her head. “You're up.”

“What are you gonna do?” Raven called after her as she walked away.

“I’m gonna keep them looking outside instead of in.” Raven blinked at her for a few moments and Clarke smiled, hoping it would be enough to convey her gratitude. She’d needed a kick up the ass and Raven had given her one.

She practically jogged out of the fallen Ark, knowing that she’d need some backup to put her plan in action and knowing exactly who the best person to get that backup from was. She glanced around once she’d gotten outside, scanning the compound for Grounders until she spotted them, training as usual in the west corner.

“Indra!” she called as she approached, feeling hope and determination and the brightness of a workable plan firing in her blood. The Grounder general turned and Clarke could see the surprise form on her face as she looked at Clarke and saw the conviction in her gait.

“Clarke?” she replied with cautiously guarded interest. Clarke could see Octavia, who had been sparring with another Grounder under Indra’s careful watch, stop what she was doing and turn worried eyes to her.

“I need your help,” Clarke started, having already decided that frank bluntness was the best plan. She saw Indra’s brow furrow and ploughed quickly on. “We’ve just heard from Bellamy on the radio.” Her eyes darted to Octavia again and saw beautiful bright relief flood her face. Indra’s eyes widened for a split second before they too flitted to Octavia.

“Did I say to cease your training?” she growled at the young girl and the Grounder she was sparring with. The Grounder immediately took up a fighting stance again and, after a few moments' hesitation, so did Octavia. “What do you need my help with?” the general asked, her narrowed, calculating eyes back on Clarke again.

“Bellamy’s got a lot of work to do in the Mountain that will be crucial to the plan that the Commander and I settled on. We need to keep the Mountain Men focused on us so that they’ll be too busy to notice that they have an intruder.” She watched as Indra processed her words, keen eyes always evaluating, judging, weighing. “I want to send them a message, a threat that will force them to look at us instead of Bellamy and I want to use the Mountain Man _we_ captured to do it.” One of Indra’s eyebrows rose and Clarke was fairly certain the general had already figured out what she’d need her help for. “I need your help, your support, to override my mother’s authority here and get that Mountain Man out of her custody.”

Clarke tried her best not to hold her breath as Indra’s dark, piercing eyes seared her for several long moments.

“Alright, Sky Girl,” the general nodded. “You’ll get the help you need.”

“Thank you,” Clarke breathed, adrenaline buzzing in her veins as Indra nodded disdainfully at her again.

“Octavia, Larran, Yaro, Gasthar, Rishi, Veran!” Indra called and immediately Octavia and the five Grounders turned to face her, ready to jump at her order. “Masta ai op!” All six grabbed their weapons and formed up around the Grounder general. Clarke had to work not to stare in amazement at Octavia, at the way she seemed to fit seamlessly into the group. “Lead the way, Clarke kom Skaikru,” Indra addressed Clarke again, her voice low and still distrustful.

Clarke nodded, turning and striding firmly away to the airlock. It was incredible quite how unstoppable she felt with a good plan and a handful of Grounders at her back. She felt no hesitation as she ordered the guard at the airlock to stand aside, no doubt that he would cede to her authority and no amazement when he did.

Even as they marched out of the Ark into the compound and murmuring voices began to be heard as people realised what she was doing, even then Clarke knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was not going to be stopped, no matter who the official Chancellor was. She watched with almost a trace of relish as her mother and Kane rushed to confront them.

“Clarke, what are you doing?” Kane called as he jogged to intercept them.

“Clarke, stop,” her mother tried to order.

“No,” Clarke refused, her veins on fire with determination. “I'm letting the prisoner go.”

“Absolutely not,” Abby cried incredulously.

“He hasn't told us anything yet,” Kane said in the tone of explaining something very obvious.

“He doesn't have to,” Clarke retorted quickly. “He's gonna tell them something.” She watched Kane’s brow furrow and wondered if he might have an inkling of understanding.

“Get the prisoner back to the airlock now,” Abby ordered the guards behind her.

“Yes, ma'am,” one of them answered; he and several of his fellows advanced a step. They got no further before the ringing clang of swords being drawn rang out behind Clarke and the Arker guards froze, raising their guns defensively against the Grounders standing with Clarke. Clarke swallowed and looked hard at her mother, willing her to understand.

“You may be the Chancellor, but I'm in charge.”

Abby’s eyes widened a fraction, her nostrils flaring.

“Indra,” she said, her voice shaking with anger, “tell your people to stand down before this gets out of hand.”

“No,” the Grounder general replied with absolute calm.

“People could get hurt,” Abby said, her eyes back on Clarke as if trying to guilt her into backing down.

“Not if you get out of my way,” Clarke replied, feeling another thrill of that unstoppable feeling at the sound of the Grounders’ support behind her. She decided it was time to dole out a little patronising truth to her mother: “You need to trust that _I_ know what's right for us.”

Abby looked as if Clarke had slapped her.

“The Grounders trust Clarke,” Kane said carefully after a moment as he took a slow step closer to Abby. “Maybe we should, too.”

Clarke could almost see the different facets of her mother’s pride whirring and battling it out on her face as she tried to decide what to do.

“Stand down,” she said after a long moment, and Clarke felt relief flood through her. She hadn’t doubted that the Grounders would get her past the guards, but she really hadn’t wanted it to come to that. Her mother moved aside and Clarke strode past her, the Grounders bringing Emerson in her wake.

“Open the gate, now,” she ordered the guards on the gate and watched as it swung open. She stood just beyond the threshold and waited as the Grounders frogmarched the captive forward to face her. “Can you hear me all right?” she asked as she peered through the perspex of his mask, “because I need to make sure you get this.”

“Loud and clear,” he grunted.

“I have a message for your leader,” she began, feeling that fiery determination flood her veins again. “We're coming for him. You're watching us, but you haven't seen a thing. The Grounder army is bigger than you think, and even if you could find it, your acid fog can't hurt them, and now, thanks to you,” she lifted the tone generator she’d borrowed back from Raven and flipped the switch on for a few seconds’ demonstration, “neither can the Reapers. So you have one last chance. Let our people go, and we'll let you live. It's just that simple.”

“I got it,” he nodded and she could see the grim understanding settle on his face.

She reached for the gas release on his oxygen tank.

“It's an eight hour walk back to Mount Weather,” she said, affecting a casual tone, and then pressed the release, watching the marker tick down past eight all the way to six. “You're gonna do it in six.”

“Six hours?” he protested. “That's not enough. How am I supposed to deliver your message?”

“That's your problem,” she hissed at him, fairly certain that it _was_ physically possible. “Now go.”

His eyes burned into her for just a second longer but then he turned and ran headlong back into the forest. She watched him for a moment, satisfied that he’d make it and that the time limit she’d enforced would mean he wouldn’t stop for any dangerous detours on route. She took a breath, letting the satisfying elation of having carried out a plan that could make a real difference fill her, and then turned back to Camp Jaha.

Octavia stood defiantly before her, tension wiring through her body; Indra stood behind her, watching on with unreadable eyes.

“Clarke,” the younger girl started, evidently working hard to contain her fearful anger, “you want to explain to me how this helps my brother?”

“I just told him we have a secret army to worry about,” Clarke explained, trying to reassure her. “The more they're looking at us, the less they're looking at him.” She watched, seeing the moment Octavia understood, the moment her anger turned to relief. “Bellamy is the key to everything, Octavia. If he dies, we die.”

 

* * *

“Clarke!” a bellowing voice called her back just as she was making her way towards Engineering early the next morning. “Clarke of the Sky People!”

She turned, recognising that it was Indra’s gruff voice hailing her, and went to meet the Grounder general as she came towards her up the corridor.

“Indra,” she said as she approached, trying but failing to recognise the enormous Grounder who walked with her. “Is everything alright?” Clarke had gone to sleep the previous night satisfied that her plan was a good one, a strong one, but had woken this morning with a horrible feeling that it was all just too precariously balanced. Bad news was not something she wanted to be handed right now.

“This is Ryder,” Indra said, gesturing to the huge man beside her as if that answered her question. She carried on at Clarke’s enquiring look. “The Commander sent him last night with orders to protect you; he is to be your personal guard. She feels it is necessary to increase your protection, given the specific threat to your life from the Mountain Men.”

A thousand different thoughts spiralled through Clarke’s brain at this: first and foremost was her deep and resounding relief at the proof that Lexa had survived the Mountain Men’s attack on her if there had been one; second came the apparently blush-inducing thought that Lexa had been concerned enough about her well-being to appoint her a personal guard; third came the almost suffocating pressure of the thought that Lexa was counting on her to come through at this meeting, so much so that she’d sent her a guard to make sure she made it there; and then there were the myriad worries that surfaced around the awkwardness of being shadowed by a complete stranger and the distrust that she knew he would be on the receiving end of from her people, despite the fact that he was there for her protection.

And on top of all that, if she knew Grounders at all and if she knew Lexa even a bit, there could be little doubt in her mind that this Ryder would have been instructed to give his life for hers if necessary and he would most likely do it willingly as his Commander had ordered. It was a little uncomfortable knowing that a stranger was running around after you, prepared to give their life for yours.

“Uh,” she said as she realised she should probably respond, “ok; thanks.” She tried to smile at him, hoping it didn’t look as timid as it felt; his gruff, unsmiling nod wasn’t exactly encouraging.

“We will be ready to leave for Tondc in approximately one hour,” Indra said after a few moments' awkward silence. “Make sure you and your people are ready.”

“We will be,” Clarke said firmly, managing to keep her voice together despite the howling raging fear that was gathering in her stomach that she might have to face the twelve Clan leaders at Tondc with very little to show for herself. And then on top of that, her skin decided to heat up again at the remembered realisation that going back to Tondc would put her back in close quarters with Lexa.

 _It’ll be fine_ , she told herself firmly. _It only got weird because we had to survive the pauna alone together. It’ll be fine._

Indra nodded at her, looked for a moment at Ryder and then marched away back down the corridor. Clarke glanced up at Ryder who was still stood there watching her, waiting to follow wherever she went.

_Great. Just perfect._

“Well,” she began, glancing a little warily up at him, “I’m headed to Engineering to see if Bellamy’s checked in yet.”

He nodded but said nothing so, after a moment, Clarke took a deep breath, smiled at him as best she could and carried on down the corridor towards the room with the radio. She could hear his footsteps on the metal grating behind her but decided she’d just have to push that from her mind for now; there were more important things going on.

“Has he checked in yet?” she asked as she entered the room.

“No,” Raven replied, glancing back and staring sceptically as she caught sight of Ryder. “You worried someone's gonna try and take a shot at you inside the Ark?”

_For goodness’ sake…_

She took a breath and decided that if he was there for her protection, he was probably supposed to take orders from her too.

“Wait outside, Ryder,” she told him, somewhat relieved to see him nod and back out of the room. She turned back to Raven but the mechanic’s focus was already back on the board in front of her. Somehow Clarke still felt the need to justify herself. “Lexa's orders.”

“Whatever, Clarke,” Raven waved her off with a slight shake of her head.

Clarke clenched her jaw but took a breath and moved on. Her eyes caught on the radio again.

“He's late,” she remarked, unable to quell the fear that rose in her throat. “What if something's happened to him?”

“He'll be fine,” Raven said with confidence Clarke wished she could match, the mechanic’s focus on the puzzle before her too strong.

“You've been busy,” Clarke said, her eyes darting around at the various schematics on the tables and boards around them. Her eyes caught on a diagram of the Philpot Dam and she strode over to it. “Why are you focusing on the dam?” the question bubbled up angrily in her chest and she rounded on Raven. “I told you acid fog was our priority.”

“Until Bellamy gets eyes on their dispersal system, there's only so much I can do,” Raven retorted, an irritated edge coming into her voice as she raised her eyes from the board and took a step towards Clarke.

“Fine,” Clarke conceded, knowing that arguing wouldn’t help and that she didn’t have nearly enough expertise to argue with the mechanic about this anyway. “Tell me about the dam. Can we cut off their power?”

“Maybe,” Raven replied. “I'm still playing with a few things.”

Clarke’s wandering eyes landed on a tone generator and she picked it up, pleased to discover that it made the same tone as the one Emerson had been carrying.

“How many of these have you made?” she asked, holding the generator up.

“Only two so far, but-”

“Two?!” Clarke exclaimed, slamming the generator back on the table as her panicky fear grabbed her again. “That's not enough. There will be Reapers everywhere.”

“High-frequency tone generators don't grow on trees, Clarke,” Raven protested defensively, advancing on Clarke as she spoke. “Wick is scrounging for parts-”

“Raven,” Clarke cut her off, feeling the pressure of expectation all-but bursting out of her head as she struggled to keep her voice calm, “I am about to leave for Tondc, where Lexa and the heads of all twelve Grounder clans are waiting for me to tell them we're a go, only we're not a go because they still have acid fog, and we only have two tone generators.”

She couldn’t bring herself to watch as Raven’s anger gave way to soft concern.

“Hey,” the older girl said gently, reaching a hand out to rest comfortingly on Clarke’s arm. “We'll be ready. We will.”

Clarke wished it was that easy to believe.

“Ark Station, do you read me? Anybody there?” Bellamy’s voice crackled through the room and they both jumped, hope lifting some of the veil of panic from Clarke’s mind. She strode to the radio, picking it up with no hesitation this time.

“Bellamy, you're late,” she admonished him even as relief thrummed in her voice. “Every three hours means every three hours.”

“Are you through?” came his quick, unapologetic reply.

Clarke took a breath, met Raven’s eye and conceded that now was not the time.

“Have you found the source of the acid fog?”

“No. That's gonna have to wait.”

“What?” she exclaimed in disbelief. “No; nothing is more important than that.”

“Our friends are,” he replied, his voice cracking a little. “They've starting taking them from the dorm one at a time every few hours.”

“Wait, taking them where?” Raven asked, pulling the radio carefully towards her, her eyes darting to the Mount Weather schematic they had drawn up.

“I don't know,” he replied. “We tried to follow them, but they went to a classified level. Maya borrowed the schematics of the vent system from her boss, and I'm still trying to find a way in. Anything?”

“I think,” came a quieter, muffled voice that Clarke just about recognised as Maya’s, “I found a path, but it's gonna be tight. Here's the walkie Raven asked for and the earbud.”

Clarke looked questioningly at the mechanic.

“We're going to make him mobile so he can talk to us from anywhere,” Raven answered her look and Clarke nodded; it would certainly make things easier.

“Bellamy,” Clarke said, picking up the radio again, “you have to find them.”

“That's the plan.”

“If you don't, all of this is for nothing.”

“Yeah.”

Silence rang for a moment as they all tried not to contemplate the consequences of Bellamy not finding their friends.

Clarke took a breath and looked at Raven, the decision firming up in her mind by the second.

“I'll be right back,” she said, handing her the radio and turning quickly toward the door.

“I thought you were going to Tondc?” Raven called after her but Clarke didn’t wait around to answer; the mechanic would find out soon enough.

She passed Ryder in the corridor and he silently followed after her as she marched quickly from Engineering to the Council Room where she knew Kane would be preparing for the trip to Tondc. Determination was warring with slightly defensive self-justification in her mind.

_Lexa’s expecting me._

_I’m needed here. Kane seems to get it; he’ll do just fine. Lexa needs to understand that I’m not really an authority figure around here; nobody elected me._

_She’s expecting_ me _. She said she’d rather not deal with any of my ‘generals’._

_She’ll just have to get over it. She knows Kane, respects him. It’ll be fine._

_Of course this has nothing to do with being worried about the meeting,_ or _with being afraid of seeing her again._

_Shut up._

She did her best to sweep her thoughts aside as she strode into the Council Room, Ryder on her heels.

“Plans have changed,” she said firmly as Kane looked around. “I'm staying here.”

“The Commander's expecting you,” Kane frowned.

“Our people inside Mount Weather are in trouble,” she explained, telling herself firmly that it was perfectly legitimate justification. “I'm not going anywhere until I know they're ok.”

“And what can you do for them from here?” Kane retorted a little tartly. Clarke knew she had no answer for that question so she ignored it.

“You'll go to Tondc in my place,” she continued firmly, as if he hadn’t challenged her at all. “Lexa respects you. I'll get there soon as I can.”

“Clarke, wait,” he said as she turned to leave and grabbed her arm to hold her back. Instantly Ryder drew his sword, stepping closer as if preparing to defend Clarke from Kane.

Clarke stared at him for a second, astonished, before quickly gathering herself and realising that his instructions were to protect her from _any_ threat, from _any_ source. She swallowed, met his eye and tried to look calm.

“Put it away,” she said firmly and was a little relieved as he nodded, sheathed his sword again and stepped back.

_For goodness’ sakes, Lexa-_

“Clarke,” Kane said carefully as she turned back to him, “being a good leader means knowing which battles to fight-”

“And which to delegate,” she finished for him impatiently. “I know. Please, I need you to go to Tondc.”

He looked at her steadily for a moment before taking a breath and nodding.

“Fine; I'll go.”

“Thank you,” Clarke breathed, nodding her gratitude at him as the doors opened behind her and quick footsteps entered the room. Clarke turned to make her exit but was met by her mother striding into the room.

“What is it?” Abby demanded as she looked at their faces.

“Kane will explain.” Clarke did her best to brush her off, not wanting to get into another debate.

“Perhaps your mother should go,” Kane said, his voice raised a little to call her back as she tried to leave again. “She is still the Chancellor after all.”

Clarke looked at him hard, trying to mask her incredulity. She had thought he had noticed her mother’s propensity for tactlessness with the Grounders almost as much as she had. The last thing they needed was to set Abby loose at Lexa’s summit with the leaders of the twelve Clans.

“Which is why she's needed here,” Clarke replied firmly; she was not quite able to meet her mother’s eye however so she answered quickly and left just as quickly.

She all but ran back to Engineering, Ryder hot on her tail; her heart hammered in her chest at what she’d just done. Going against Kane and Abby was one thing; displeasing Lexa was a different thing altogether, for a wide and disconcerting plethora of different reasons.

 _It’s done_ , she told herself firmly. _Focus on the mission._

She reached Engineering in just a few minutes, asking Ryder to wait outside again as she entered, just in time to hear Raven giving Bellamy directions over the radio. She walked forward to stand beside the mechanic, her eyes roving over the schematic of Mount Weather they’d constructed between them, seeing the additions Raven must have made with Maya’s information in her absence.

“So you’re _not_ going to Tondc?” Raven said, glancing at Clarke and taking her thumb off the radio transmission button.

“Kane’s going instead.” She met Raven’s eye for a moment. “I wanted to be here.” Raven gave her a tiny nod and Clarke knew she understood at least that part of her reasoning.

They waited a few moments and Raven filled her in on what Maya had said and what she had consequently instructed Bellamy to do. Clarke swallowed hard and nodded; when Maya had said it would be ‘tight’ she had not been exaggerating.

“Ok,” Raven said, pressing the transmission button again and speaking into the radio, glancing at Clarke as she did so. “So tell us where you're at now.”

“I'm at an intersection,” came Bellamy’s slightly crackly reply. “Which way?”

“Ok,” Raven said, handing the radio to Clarke and stepping up to the schematic, pointing to a clustered junction of pipes that seemed to be just a few metres from where they had estimated the lab to be. “He just passed the air filtration system on this floor, which puts him about here.”

“Bellamy,” Clarke spoke into the radio, “we think you're close. The lab should be up ahead.”

There was a slight pause.

“Any chance you can be more specific?” he asked uncertainly and Clarke looked questioningly at Raven. They both stared at the schematic trying to figure out what the problem was. A muffled high-pitched buzzing sound came from the radio and then Bellamy’s voice sounded again. “Never mind. I got this.”

As he moved, the buzzing sound got louder and clearer.

“Is that a drill?” the mechanic wondered aloud and Clarke had to swallow very hard as a horrible possibility rose in her mind.

“Bone marrow extraction.”

They stared at each other. Clarke’s blood felt like ice in her veins.

_It fits._

They both snapped to look at the radio as the drilling stopped and a cool female voice became audible.

“You ready for the last treatment you'll ever need, Lieutenant?”

“You have no idea,” came the reply.

_I know that voice. I know I know that voice._

“I've waited my whole life to breathe fresh air.”

“That's Emerson!” Clarke hissed as she figured it out.

“Let's get back to this secret army that she claims to have,” came another man’s voice, this one oily and arrogant. She racked her brain to recognise it but came up with nothing. “She tell you anything that might help us find it?” At that point the drill started again but- “Stop drilling, please.”

“The window for extraction after death is incredibly short,” the cool female voice protested.

_Death. The window after death._

_Oh god._

She and Raven stared at each other again and Clarke could see her own panic mirrored in the other girl’s face.

“I only need a minute,” came the arrogant voice again.

“No, sir,” Emerson replied.

_Sir? But it’s not Dante he’s speaking to._

_Didn’t Dante have a son who was second in command or something?_

“Nothing about the army,” Emerson continued. “She did say she was coming for you and that if we let her people go she'll let our people live.”

“It's a little late for that,” the other man said with almost a trace of amusement in his voice.

“I'm sorry I failed, sir,” Emerson apologised.

“No, it's ok,” the arrogant man said calmly. “We'll finish the job tonight. Whitman just radioed in. Apparently there's a war council meeting happening tonight in one of their villages, and all the leaders are gonna be there.”

Clarke’s heart jolted in her throat and she stared at Raven, fear bubbling through her veins.

_Lexa-_

“Sir, I feel good,” Emerson said. “Let me take a team out and support Whitman.”

“No. He has less chance of being spotted if he's alone.”

“Sir, Whitman's good, but he can't take out that many targets alone.”

“Which is why,” the arrogant man said and Clarke was sure she could hear the smile in his voice, “we're gonna use a missile. This time, we're not gonna miss.”

_A missile._

_A MISSILE!?_

Clarke’s head felt like it was going to explode as her boiling fear erupted inside her.

_All those people- Lexa, Kane, Octavia-_

_Lexa-_

“Please tell me you heard all that.” Bellamy’s whispered voice broke into her thoughts as it crackled over the radio. She swallowed hard, trying to corral her thoughts.

“We heard it,” she replied, her brain still firing.

“We have to warn them,” Raven murmured, the fear in her eyes echoing that in Clarke’s.

“Did Kane take a radio?” she asked, a desperate doubtful bubble of hope in her chest.

“No,” Raven replied quickly, popping the bubble. “This is the only unjammed frequency. We have to keep it open for Bellamy.”

Clarke knew she was right. It only left one option.

She pressed the transmission button on the radio and met Raven’s eyes; she needed them both to hear her.

“If I leave now, I can make it there in time.”

“In time to be blown up, you mean-” Raven tried to protest.

“When I get back,” Clarke carried on firmly, “I want to know our friends are safe and the acid fog is down. Can you handle that?” She stared hard at Raven, needing the older girl on board. She watched as resignation set in on Raven’s face as she closed her eyes, shaking her head for a moment before meeting Clarke’s gaze again.

“Yeah,” she said, still shaking her head, “we can handle it. Go.”

“Clarke, wait,” Bellamy called over the radio, fear evident in his voice. “Octavia was in Tondc when I left. Is... is she-”

“She's here,” Clarke said quickly before Raven could answer; that was definitely one of the easiest lies she’d ever had to tell. “She's safe.” She watched Raven’s frown form quickly and deeply.

“Ok,” Bellamy breathed his relief. “Good. Be safe, too”

“I will,” Clarke replied and hoped she wasn’t lying this time.

“Octavia's in Tondc for the meeting,” Raven challenged her as soon as the transmission was cut. “Why'd you lie?”

“Bellamy can't be distracted,” Clarke explained, knowing that the pragmatist in Raven would understand quickly enough. “It helps no one.” She put the radio transmitter back on its hook and moved to walk past Raven.

“Hey,” the older girl stopped her, pulling her back. Before Clarke could fully understand what was happening, Raven’s arms had wrapped around her, holding her tight. A lump rose in Clarke’s throat and she tentatively raised her arms, returning the embrace. This was the last thing she’d expected from Raven; Clarke knew she’d given the other girl more than enough reasons to hate her and yet here they were. Apparently Raven’s heart was big enough to make space for her in there anyway.

They held on for a few seconds and Clarke soaked up all the comfort that she could before they both pulled away.

“Don't get blown up,” Raven said softly and Clarke almost smiled. She nodded, unable to find a voice in that moment, and turned to leave.

She ran from the room, Ryder jogging after her as she went and this time Clarke blessed the Grounder’s unquestioning silence. She raced out of the Ark to where the few remaining horses were kept, thankful beyond belief for their existence and hauling herself up into the saddle as quickly as possible.

“We have to get to Tondc as fast as possible,” she said to Ryder as he leapt into the saddle of his own horse a few metres away. He met her gaze, his brows furrowing a little at the urgency in her voice, but he nodded.

“I will lead the way then,” he said, his voice a low rumble in his chest. He paused for a moment before speaking again. “Lean forward over the horse’s neck once we’re galloping and she will truly show you the meaning of speed.”

Clarke stared at him, already wincing in anticipation of how much pain her legs would be in, but she nodded firmly.

“Let’s go.”

He silently urged his horse into a quick trot and she followed after him out of the compound into the forest, breaking into a gallop as soon as they were clear of Camp Jaha.

_We’ve got to get there; we’ve got to get there in time._

Her mind ran over and over those words in a terrified mantra, faces flashing in her mind as they rode. Kane, Octavia, even Indra.

Lexa.

_Oh god, Lexa._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliff hanger!! Or it would be if you hadn’t already watched the show and knew what happened ;)
> 
> Apologies again for this being the longest chapter of anything ever written, I hope it managed to stay enjoyable anyway.
> 
> For the Lexa fans among you, I have a strong suspicion that the next chapter will be from her pov – there’s only so long my inner fangirl can apparently go without visiting our little Commander’s thoughts :)
> 
> Thanks, as always, for reading! Let me know what you thought with a review :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, sorry it’s taken so long for this to get updated. It’s partly taken so long because I just started a new job with more hours but, let’s be real, it’s mostly because *S3 SPOILER ALERT (if you’ve somehow managed to avoid it while existing on the internet recently!?)* of 3x07. Apparently doing what they did makes it difficult for me to write this, especially what with this chapter being, as promised, Lexa’s POV. Anywho, I’d bet everything I posses that I’m not the only fanfic writer who’s had to stop mid-sentence because of daft blasts of uncontrolled emotion because of what they did in 3x07. We humans are silly creatures.
> 
> Actually important author’s note: I should warn any readers who haven’t seen season 3 that I will be including (my interpretation of) any new world/grounder lore/cultural information that we get in season 3 even though these chapters are way back when in season 2, especially in Lexa pov chapters – it makes sense that her thoughts would be shaped by the lore/culture of her world so I kind of have to include it when I can! 
> 
> Right well, here goes. I hope this doesn’t come across as too disjointed, it kept getting away from me what with all the emotional upheaval breaks and I didn’t do half the things I intended to but hey. I tried to smooth it together after I finished it, but I can never tell how well that actually works. Let me know what you think!

**Chapter 9**

“Heda,” Nyko began the moment the last messengers had been sent off to all the twelve Clans. Lexa managed to contain her sigh as she turned to face him; seeing a healer was a frustrating necessity but a necessity nonetheless. She tried without much success to banish from her mind the concerned look on Clarke’s face before they’d parted. “Please allow me to tend your injuries now.”

“Yes, Nyko,” she nodded, turning and making her way towards his hut. “Thank you.”

As they walked, she chanced a glance across the village square towards her hut but there was no flash of gold to be seen within.

_They must have left by now._

_That’s good,_ she thought firmly, steadily reminding herself that not only would her warriors keep Clarke safe but that the blonde had proved herself fairly capable during their escape of the pauna the day before.

_You’d do better to not think so much about her in the coming days._

Lexa did her best to redirect her thoughts as she followed Nyko and allowed him to treat her, resetting her sling and examining her ankle. She couldn’t help the resounding note of worry in her mind about Nia, leader of the Ice Nation and the person Lexa hated most in the world: if Nia somehow caught wind of Lexa’s ill-timed fascination with Clarke during the Summit in a few days, it would not bode well for any of them. Just the thought of the Ice Bitch coming to Tondc was enough to make Lexa’s fists clench; the thought of her catching wind of Lexa’s unbidden feelings for the blonde Skaigada was utterly unacceptable.

 _It is weakness_ , Lexa almost snarled at herself. _Do not be so weak as to give Nia any sniff of a reason to go there._

“Ok,” Nyko said with a slight sigh as he rose from where he had been strapping her ankle. “You are set. Please wear the strap for at least one more day and the sling for at least two. If they become uncomfortable, I can adjust them.”

“I know, Nyko,” Lexa said, perhaps a little more firmly than she’d meant to and she internally chastised herself for being so weak as to let one night without sleep make her impatient. “Thank you.”

He nodded and she stood up to leave.

“Before you go, Heda,” he said, looking almost nervous as she turned to look at him again. “There have been many warriors volunteering themselves to be your guard now that Sefon has passed. I know you would usually spar with candidates yourself to select one but, uh-”

“I understand, Nyko,” Lexa cut him off to save him the trouble of finding words that would be inoffensive to her pride. “I will observe them as they spar against each other.” She allowed a small smile to rise at his obvious relief and couldn’t help wondering what he would have said to persuade her not to fight while injured.

“Thank you, Heda.”

“It is Jarrell who leads after Indra, yes?” she asked before she left, wanting to clarify. She hadn’t needed to know who Indra’s deputy was for some time and, much as she tried to keep abreast of the various leaders of her people, she thought it wise to check. “These volunteers will have reported to him?”

“Yes,” Nyko confirmed with a hint of an impressed smile.

“Good, thank you.” She paused for a moment in the doorway. “You serve your people well, Nyko.”

His smile widened and he bowed; Lexa felt again that warmth that came with being able to so easily bestow happiness on her people with just the smallest of words.

She made her way back through the village until she found the tall, wiry man she was looking for.

“Heda,” he called to her as she approached.

“Jarrell,” she greeted him. “I hear there are volunteers for the position of my guard?”

“Yes, Heda,” he confirmed. “There are many. But first: a meal has been prepared for you. Would you like to take it in your hut or-?”

“I will take it in the square and I would like all your volunteers to gather there now. Nyko has asked me not to spar myself because of the pauna’s marks on me, so I would like to observe them as they spar each other. We can hold a demonstration of their skills in the village square and any warriors’ seconds with no more urgent duties should be encouraged to attend; it could be a useful learning experience for them.”

“As you wish, Heda,” Jarrell nodded. “I shall have them all assembled in ten minutes.”

Once the details were finalised, she made her way back to the square, trying to find some enthusiasm for the event. It was traditional for the Commander to have a personal guard but Lexa was increasingly serious in her contemplation of stopping the practice. The deepest implication of having a personal guard was that her life was worth more than others, that her life was more precious; she hated it. Yes, she carried the Commander’s Spirit in her body, but that did not mean that her safety should be prioritised before any one of her people’s. The Commander’s Spirit would guide and protect them just as well in her successor, she had seen to that by teaching compassion as well as wisdom and strength to her Nightblood novitiates; she herself was no longer of any particular importance.

And yet here they were, her people lining up to volunteer themselves to give their lives for hers, fighting for that ‘honour’. She felt the tightening clench in her chest at the thought of Gustus.

She knew what he would say on the subject.

Not to mention Titus; she could practically hear the Flamekeeper’s lecture ringing in her ears.

She reached the square shortly and allowed herself to be ushered to the bench that had been placed for her use at one side of the space, receiving the food pressed upon her with a gratitude that made the small boy who had brought it to her blush to the tips of his ears.

She watched, hiding her weariness behind a mask of sharp interest, as Jarrell lead a group of over a dozen warriors into the square where they all formed up before her, bowing low in their respect. Various gaggles of young seconds were appearing around the edges of the square, their eyes drinking in the scene before them, hungry to learn. Lexa tried not to think about the fact that those youngsters were partly so eager to learn in the hopes that they too might one day be seen as skilled enough to give their lives for their Heda.

“Warriors of Tondc,” Jarrell spoke loudly to those gathered. “Our mighty Heda has asked you here to demonstrate your skill and win her trust to be her personal guard. Her strength is such that she has fought the pauna and still lives, but even our great Heda cannot come away from that fight uninjured; so, instead of sparring with her for the honour of being her guard, you must spar with each other. Heda will observe and make her choice from what she sees.”

Lexa nodded confirmation of his words to the waiting crowd.

 _It was more ‘mighty Clarke’ than ‘mighty Heda’_ , she thought to herself but knew full well that no good would come of pointing this out in this moment.

“Anto, Emdal,” Jarrell continued, calling two warriors forwards. “You may begin.”

Several hours passed and Indra’s people acquitted themselves well, sparring pair after sparring pair, mixing and matching until every warrior had fought every warrior.

 _Indra would be proud_ , Lexa thought and was unable to stop the small smile curling the corners of her mouth at what Clarke’s facial expression would undoubtedly be at such pride. The blonde’s facial expressions expressed a lot.

 _Stop it,_ she scolded herself, reeling her thoughts back in, away from Clarke’s piercing blue eyes and incredulously arching eyebrows. 

She took a breath and resettled herself, knowing she would be called on for a decision soon. Many of the warriors before her showed great promise but there were a few frontrunners. There was Reesa, a lithe woman who had beaten almost every competitor by sheer speed; Tokar, a smaller man who seemed to have developed techniques that enabled him to use his smaller height to his advantage; Ryder, an enormous man built similarly to Gustus, combining strength and size and intelligence in his attacks; and Kato, a tall muscular woman who was excellent at defence and whose attacks were so savage when they came that, even when sparring, they left her opponents more or less unable to reply.

Lexa took several long moments as she considered the warriors before her, though she had a pretty good idea already who she would choose. Part of why Gustus had been so effective was that he had so rarely needed to actually do anything. The sheer menace of his enormous presence was usually enough to do the job, and Ryder was clearly the warrior most able to provide her with that same presence. The less her guard had to actually fight the better in her opinion, and Ryder had also proved himself to be more than capable if a fight did break out. He was also the only warrior out of the fifteen present who had gone unbeaten; he had used brains as well as brawn in his fights and it had paid off.

“Thank you all for the strength and the courage and the sheer skill you have demonstrated today,” she addressed the gathered warriors once she had seen enough and Jarrell had called a halt to the proceedings. “I would be honoured to have any one of you as my guard; you-”

“Heda!!”

It wasn’t often that she was interrupted mid-speech so it was with a considerably furrowed brow and some surprise that she turned to see a man running through the village towards them shouting for her.

“Heda!” he cried again as he reached them, obvious relief flooding his face as he saw her.

 _He was one of the riders I sent with Clarke_ , Lexa realised and cold flashed through her chest.

“Rayek!” Jarrell spoke, anger in his voice. “What is this? Why are you not guarding the Skaikru as you were ordered?”

“We were attacked,” Rayek replied, his eyes darting between Jarrell and Lexa. The cold in Lexa’s chest intensified. “The Mountain Men came and Peton was hit.”

“Does he live?” Jarrell asked, his face pinched.

“Were any others injured?” Lexa demanded, blue eyes and gold hair flashing in her mind.

“No one else was hurt and the Mountain Men were killed or captured,” he replied and hot relief flooded through Lexa’s veins; she realised she had not taken breath and carefully resumed breathing as inconspicuously as possible. “I do not know about Peton. The Skaikru healer was with them though so he may yet live.”

“Why have you come back?” Jarrell demanded. “You were sent to protect the Skaikru and they clearly need it.”

“Indra sent me. They searched the Mountain Men and found pictures, exact likenesses, which proved that the targets had been Clarke of the Skaikru and our Heda. Indra sent me to warn you, Heda: the Mountain Men are trying to assassinate you.”

Fire and fury rose like a flood in Lexa’s veins, swiftly followed by a harsh return of that cold fear.

_The Mountain Men will come for Clarke again._

_And if they come for me, they will wade through the blood of Tondc to get me._

She did not want any more grief to settle on the village than there already was, not if she could stop it.

“Heda,” Jarrell began, fear clear in his voice and in his eyes, “we must protect you-”

“No,” she cut him off firmly. “We must protect Tondc. If they are trying to attack me, they will attack this entire village; I will not allow it.” She turned quickly to the gathered warriors in the square, a plan forming in her mind even as she spoke, tradition be damned. “All of you have come here to volunteer yourselves as my personal guard. What I would ask of you now is for all of you to work together, for all of you to guard me by guarding this village. Make the safety of Tondc your priority and you will do me proud. These next days will have tension enough; as you all know, the leaders of the twelve clans will be gathering here so that we can discuss how to finally bring down the Mountain that has plagued us. It is this, I believe, that has prompted this attempt on my life and on the life of Clarke of the Sky People.”

She paused, looking around and meeting every eye in the crowd.

“The Mountain is afraid. They know we are coming for them, they know that together we can beat them. Help me defend this place so that your friends and your families can enjoy the victory that awaits us.”

There was an almost deafening roar of approval at her words and Lexa looked at Jarrell, signalling for him to give the specific orders to his warriors as he knew them best. The tall wiry man moved through the group of warriors, barking out instructions and Lexa used this moment to give out her final order.

“Ryder,” she called to the big man, beckoning him over.

“Heda,” he murmured in a deep voice, bowing low.

“I have a job for you,” she began. “I want you to go to Camp Jaha and I want you to guard Clarke of the Sky People as if she were me. Her life and her safety are your responsibility now.”

If he was at all surprised by this order he did not show it, he simply nodded.

“I shall leave now.”

“Good,” Lexa nodded back. “Ride fast.”

* * *

The next thirty-six hours were spent in overseeing the reinforcement of Tondc’s defences and making preparations for the arrival of the clan leaders. Tensions were bound to be high, not only because of the threat from the Mountain against Lexa’s life, but because the last time some of the arriving clans had been here they had been here waging war. The Ice Nation had led those destructive forces, but they hadn’t stood alone. Lexa knew that she was not the only one to have lost loved ones to Nia and her followers; she just hoped that they would be able to keep enough of a lid on the tension to achieve all that they needed to achieve together.

_If I can work with Nia, then any two enemies can work together._

_Just as long as she doesn’t get anywhere near-_

_Stop it!_

The number of times she’d had to tell herself not to think about the blonde Skai girl was truly shocking. So many important things were happening and she needed to focus; the frequent blasts of worry about Clarke were really not helpful.

She took another breath and refocused her meditation. She had given Jarrell what instruction he needed, given the villagers and warriors what inspirational speeches they needed, had even allowed Nyko to re-examine her shoulder and her ankle, but now she needed time to think and to meditate and to listen to the wisdom of the Commanders before her. She knew she would need to draw on their combined strength in the coming days, not only to fight the Mountain but to maintain the peace among her people.

She could still remember the jarring pain of that presence in her mind when she had first been given the Commander’s Spirit after her Conclave. The sixteen year old girl that she had been had been overwhelmed by the decades of mind-blowing thought, of history and understanding and the undiluted power of the Commander’s Spirit. It was strange to think now that she had worried that she would not be able to think her own thoughts ever again, that she would be erased by the Commander in her. Now she could use that power and understanding as a well of strength to draw upon, to be guided by but not drowned in.

It was at least partly that presence that warned her not to be reckless with her heart again.

_Clarke may be fascinating and inspiring and beguiling, but she is also Skaikru._

_This is a dangerous time to feel._

She took another deep breath, different versions of truth wrestling behind her eyelids.

_Love may be weakness and it may be wise not to feel too strongly, but Titus is wrong if he believes it is strength to deny all emotion, if he believes it is wise to set aside all feeling. To feel is to be human; to rule and to lead without feeling is to bring disaster to those you lead. To understand your people’s needs, you must understand and experience what they feel._

_So, in order to lead well you_ must _feel, you_ must _experience emotion, but you must_ not _let these feelings and experiences dictate your decision making. Let them shape your understanding, but do not let them make you selfish._

_Selfishness is the true weakness._

She took a few moments to digest this thought, realising that it held greater wisdom than Titus’ teaching.

 _Sending Ryder to protect Clarke is not selfish; she truly is important to this alliance….not_ just _to me._

There had been no voice of doubt in her mind when she’d sent him, but in many of the busy hours since she had been distracted by what sounded like Titus’ voice in her head telling her to be wary of decisions made by emotion.

_That was not a decision made by selfish emotion alone; it furthers my people’s interests just as much as it furthers my own._

The relief of this realisation was just solidifying as a knock at the door of her hut broke her from her meditation.

“Enter!” she called, clearing her throat and resetting her features.

“Heda,” Jarrell spoke after he opened the door. “Several of the Clan leaders have arrived, delegations from the Lake People, the Desert Clan and the Plains Riders.”

“Thank you, Jarrell,” Lexa said, nodding and leaning back on her chair. “Have them sent to the Meeting Hall and I will greet them there soon.”

“Yes, Heda,” he agreed but Lexa could see there was a slight nervousness in his eyes.

“What is it, Jarrell?”

“Our scouts have reported sightings of the Ice Nation delegation,” he began hesitantly and Lexa realised that she should have realised that if there was a problem, Nia would likely be at the root of it.

“Yes?”

“The Ice Queen was not with them.”

The words seemed to ring in Lexa’s ears for a moment but were soon lost to the roaring crescendo of two opposite sensations battling it out inside her: on the one hand, intense anger rose like a billowing flame at the thought that the Ice Bitch had dared to defy her summons, had dared to show such disrespect; on the other hand, flooding waves of cool balmy relief rushed over her at the realisation that she would not have to see Nia, that her enemy would not so much as set eyes on Clarke.

“Let me know as soon as the delegation is here,” she told Jarrell, her voice calm and neutral as she hid the war raging in her chest.

“Yes, Heda,” he replied, bowing his way out of the hut again.

Alone with her thoughts and the thoughts of past Commanders once more, she closed her eyes again and sought the wisdom that came with meditation.

_Set aside both anger and relief for now. Nia can be dealt with later; relief is irrelevant to the coming war._

_Yes, you should not shrink from feeling, but you absolutely must_ not _let emotion cloud your mind._

_If emotion clouds your mind, you will no longer be able to distinguish the selfish decision from the wise one._

* * *

“Tokar!” Lexa yelled, signalling for him to attack as she spun to face him, leaving Kato defeated on the ground behind her.

He nodded and charged, neatly ducking her outstretched blade and aiming a blow behind her knees that sent Lexa to the ground. She allowed herself the smallest smirk of amusement, having expected something of the sort from the rather diminutive man, and rolled quickly with the momentum of her fall. She used the speed of her movement to flip herself back onto her feet, landing just behind Tokar and gripping him in an inescapable headlock. She held the grip around his neck as he struggled, waiting patiently until he inevitably signalled his capitulation, tapping her arm three times.

“Reesa!” she called as she released Tokar and turned to face her final opponent, swiftly grabbing her blunt sparring sword from the ground where she’d dropped it in the small man’s attack.

She could see both nervousness and anticipation in the woman’s face as she stepped forwards. Her dark eyes were flitting quickly across Lexa’s body, taking in every slight shift of stance, every clue as to what she might do. Just to test a theory, Lexa took a quick step and feigned an attack low to her left but Reesa simply danced out of reach, a grin flashing on her face. Lexa smirked again.

Every fight that Reesa had won in the sparring trials two days before had been won by drawing her opponent in, using her speed to evade them and using that same speed to attack before said opponent had any chance to put up a defence. It was intelligent.

Reesa was smart and fast; Lexa was smarter and faster.

She made another couple of obvious feints and then lunged halfway through another. Just as she’d expected, Reesa made her move, spinning away from her blade and raising her own simultaneously as she twisted around to jab quickly towards Lexa’s apparently unguarded side. Lexa dropped immediately to the ground, hearing the blade whoosh over her head as she ducked out of its path, and punched the other woman hard in the stomach, winding her. As Reesa bent double in shock and pain and breathlessness, Lexa kicked out, swiping her opponent's legs from beneath her so she landed flat on her back, gasping for breath. Quick as a flash, Lexa had straddled the prone woman, pinned her arms and drew her dagger, holding the blade over Reesa’s throat.

There was silence in the square for about half a second and then tumultuous roars of applause broke out, the familiar chant of ‘Heda! Heda! Heda!’ soon rising in a hundred voices or more. She released her grip on Reesa and stood, offering her arm to the fallen warrior to pull her to her feet. Reesa smiled wide and in awe as she grasped the proffered arm, still coughing and gasping for breath.

“Thank you,” Lexa said, addressing Reesa, Tokar and Kato even as the crowds that had gathered unasked around them continued to cheer and chant, allowing herself a small smile as she met each of their gazes. “I often find it feels good to get a little exercise after having had to bend to a healer’s request for inactivity for a few days.”

“I think,” Kato began in her slightly rough voice, “I may speak for us all when I say it is an honour to serve you, my Heda.”

“In any way,” Reesa agreed, her eyes alight with fervour even as she still held one hand to her chest and one to her stomach.

Tokar bowed low.

“The honour is mine,” Lexa said gently, meeting each eye again before turning to the crowd around them, pleased to see several groups of warriors from the visiting clans watching and cheering along with the Trikru people of Tondc.

There had been multiple reasons that she had wanted to spar with the three warriors and that she had wanted to do so here in the square where crowds would inevitably form. First and foremost, she really did feel the need to exercise her recently recovered body, to test her strength and her reflexes after her injuries. Second, it was never good for the people’s morale when the Commander was injured, especially when war was imminent; publicly proving her recovery was the fastest way to remedy that. Last but not least, she knew that the story would stay in the air for at least the next week, the story of how the Commander had bested the pauna and then only took two days to recover before beating the three best warriors in Tondc. A story like that would be likely to squash any rebellious feelings that could be brewing amongst any of the clan delegations.

“Congratulations, Heda,” Jarrell said as he approached. “It was incredible to watch you fight.”

“Thank you, Jarrell,” she said, allowing herself another small smile at his wide-eyed expression.

“I have news for you though,” he continued, blinking a few times as if to gather himself. “Indra sent one of her warriors on ahead and she just arrived here. She says that Indra’s party and the Skaikru delegation will be here within half an hour.”

Lexa froze for half a split second as her whole body thrummed in reaction to the fact that she would see Clarke again so soon but she quickly contained herself, composing her features and her voice as she spoke with Jarrell.

“Good,” she nodded, clearing her throat. “I will be in my hut; let me know when they arrive.”

“Yes, Heda,” he bowed.

She turned, making her way back across the square towards her hut, smiling her small smile back at every villager that met her eye as she moved through the still-noisy crowd.

The fact that she was mostly rushing back to her quarters in order to make herself presentable again after her sparring session was, she almost convinced herself, justifiable. It wasn’t only Clarke who would be arriving, the whole Skaikru delegation was coming, they were about to have a war council meeting with leaders from the twelve clans; the Commander needed to look like _the Commander,_ not some sweaty, scruffy young fighter with no pauldron or sash.

Her hut was cool and dark inside, soothing after the bright noise outside. She moved quickly into the back, to her bedroom, and poured out some water from a jug into a basin on the side. She stared at her reflection in the murky cracked mirror above it, at the dust on her skin and in her mussed hair, and tried not to think too much about the real reasons why she wanted to sort her appearance out now. She disrobed quickly and dipped a cloth into the cold water in the basin, gritting her teeth as the cold water made goosebumps rise on her skin as she washed herself as best she could. She tried not to think longingly of the hot bath in the Commander’s chambers in Polis.

She didn’t have much time if she wanted to re-braid her hair which she definitely did, so she made do with getting rid of the worst of the sweat and grime on her body before she patted herself dry and found fresh clothes. Once dressed, she pulled her hair from its untidy braids, trying not to feel disgust at the matted tangled mess that fell about her shoulders. She knew she did not have time to clean it properly, but she wet her fingers and pulled them through it as best she could until she was at least able get it all hanging in roughly the same direction. She sighed, dipped her fingers in the now-murky water again and began to pull her hair back into the intricate braids that she had worn ever since she had been chosen by the Commander. Their intricacy had taken a long time to master, but no Commander before her had ever had an attendant to help them dress and she had firmly decided that she would not be the first simply because she had been cursed with this ridiculous mass of thick curly hair.

It took nearly twenty whole minutes, but she managed to get her hair to obey her. She checked it one more time in the cracked glass and had just noticed that she had somehow managed to get dirt and grime on her face again – _probably from the dirty water that dripped down my face from my dirty hair_ – when there was a knock at the door and Jarrell’s voice called through.

“Heda?”

_There’s no time to deal with this now._

_The Commander does not have to be clean to be powerful; if anything quite the opposite._

She tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest that, despite her best efforts, she was still going to look grubby and unclean when she saw Clarke again, turned swiftly on her heel and strode back to the front room of her hut, grabbing her pauldron and her sash as she went.

“Enter!”

The door opened and Jarrell came in, bowing as she met his eye.

“Indra and the Skaikru have arrived, Heda,” he said and she nodded, hoping that any trace of the irritatingly ridiculous tension in her chest about Clarke was hidden as she wrapped her sash around her recently healed shoulder and lifted the heavy pauldron carefully into place, snapping the fastening tight across her chest.

“Good,” she said, glad to find her voice calm and neutral as she lifted her gaze to meet his again. “I shall come to greet them now.

“Also,” he continued, again with a wary tone that told her what he was going to say before he said it, “the Azgeda delegation has been seen approaching. The Ice Queen is definitely not with them; they will probably arrive in the next ten minutes.”

_Of course; perfect timing._

“Ok, thank you Jarrell. I will greet Indra and the Skaikru, and then I will deal with the Ice Nation.”

“Yes, Heda.” He bowed again and left the hut.

Lexa took one more moment, one more moment to breathe and close her eyes and draw on the wisdom and strength of the Commander’s Spirit in her, before she pushed the door open again and strode out into the bright sunlight.

Already she could see Indra leading a troop of her people into the square and was pleased to see her walking side by side with Marcus Kane; that was improvement. She also noticed that Lincoln’s partner, the Skaigada Octavia, was walking one step behind Indra to her side, saw the Trikru paint on her face and the braiding in her hair.

_Indra has taken Octavia as a Second?_

Lexa had always known that Indra was a good general, loyal and intelligent, but she hadn’t anticipated that the gruff woman would go so far as to take on a Skaikru Second after all that had happened, no matter how strongly Lexa had urged her to let the past rest in favour of the future. She looked again at Octavia.

_She has quickly won the close respect of two of my people; she must be a force to be reckoned with. Be careful of her._

Lexa had not had much direct interaction with the young Skaigada and it made her wary to know so little about someone who was evidently so powerful.

_Indra will watch her; she would not have chosen her without good reason._

Lexa’s eyes skimmed quickly back along the line of Trikru and Skaikru people who were filing into the square, searching for the gold and the blue.

There was a hollow sort of thud in her chest at the realisation that Clarke was not among them.

_Perhaps-_

_Perhaps she is at the rear of the group?_

Her mind jolted and jarred a little. Clarke had never been at the rear of any group in any time that they had ever met.

“Heda,” Indra called, breaking Lexa from her thoughts.

 _Focus_ , the voice in her mind warned.

She took a careful breath and watched as Indra approached, inclining her head in a slight bow.

“Indra,” she greeted her warmly, truly glad to have her back, and extended her arm. Her general grasped her forearm firmly and nodded. “Marcus,” she greeted him, offering her arm to him as well once Indra had released it.

“Commander,” he smiled, as he too grasped her arm. “It is good to see you again.”

“Likewise,” she nodded at him, forcing herself to keep her focus on him and Indra, to not let her eyes go back to checking every face in the still-arriving group for Clarke. “I trust all is well at Camp Jaha and that our peoples have been able to learn from one another?”

“Yes,” he replied with a slightly rueful smile. “I think we have made some good progress on that front.” She could see his eyes darting almost nervously to Indra; she followed his gaze and could see the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of Indra’s mouth. She would, no doubt, get a full report from Indra later, but the smile combined with Kane’s words and manner told most of the story. It had probably been a little rough to begin with at least.

_Bridging cultural gaps is not an instant process; it will require time and patience. If Indra is now committed to this, as she appears to be with a Skaikru Second, that will be a big step in the right direction for all of Tondc, for the whole Coalition._

She paused, took a careful breath, and asked the question that was rattling around in her chest with increasing urgency.

“And Clarke? Where is she?”

She almost impressed herself with how calm and disinterested she sounded. That is, until she saw the slight quirk of Indra’s eyebrow.

“Ah, yes,” Kane said, looking a little discomfited. “She asked me to send her apologies. Bellamy has made contact via the radio as planned, but Clarke felt that she would be of most use back at Camp Jaha, helping him with his mission. She has asked me to represent Camp Jaha here in her place.”

Another thud landed in Lexa’s chest, somehow heavier than before, more solid.

A thousand thoughts raced through her mind: that Clarke had _chosen_ not to come, that Clarke had chosen to support Bellamy when Lexa had wanted her support, the memory of actually telling Clarke that she would rather not have to deal with her generals in her place, of Clarke’s face just before they’d parted, of Bellamy’s protective closeness over the beautiful Skaigada-

 _Focus! Now is_ not _the time for petty jealousy of all things!!_

“I see,” she replied, keeping her voice level and emotionless. “What is the status of his mission?”

“Well,” Kane began, a little apprehensively, “he has successfully infiltrated the Mountain and has, I understand, enlisted the help of a girl who lives in Mount Weather, someone who doesn’t agree with what the Mountain Men have been doing to your people and are now doing to ours. I believe they are working together with Raven to work out how to deactivate the acid fog and how to release the prisoners.”

Lexa nodded, her mind whirring; there was a lot to process.

_The acid fog is not yet disabled and my people are still in their cages._

_Someone inside the Mountain is helping us._

_Of course; every regime has people who disapprove of its harsher edges._

_This could complicate things in a battle._

_If Raven is helping Bellamy and the Mountain girl, why does Clarke need to be there more than she needs to be here?_

_Focus!_

“Ok, good,” she murmured, ferociously gathering her thoughts and her composure and forcing down the ones that should not be guiding her actions and words right now. “Well, for now you and your people should rest from your journey and eat. Indra-?” She looked at her general, indicating that she should dictate how that would happen.

“Yes,” Indra took the hint quickly. “Come with me,” she said to Kane, “we shall find some food for us and our warriors.”

“Thank you,” Kane replied with what looked like a relieved smile. He met Lexa’s eyes again and nodded before following Indra off into the village.

Lexa watched them go, watched Octavia follow after them and the rest of the new arrivals joining too.

 _Perhaps this is for the best,_ she told herself. _She cannot distract me or cloud my mind if she is not here._

She almost rolled her eyes at that spectacularly untrue thought. The last few days had given plenty of evidence to the fact that Clarke could distract her no matter how many miles separated them.

_But still. Perhaps this is better._

An awful thought occurred to her and she tried to convince herself that it was actually good.

_Perhaps she- Perhaps- Perhaps she perceives some of my regard for her but does not return it and is simply trying not to complicate matters. This war will be much simpler if Skaikru are simply allies of the Coalition and nothing more. Perhaps she is wise to discourage this._

She firmly ignored the swelling ache in her chest at the thought, took a breath and made her way towards the recently reinforced gates of Tondc.

_Focus. Deal with the Azgeda. They will be here soon._

She knew she would have to challenge whoever this representative was, would have to demand an explanation. She knew that the Coalition was not yet so strong that it was safe to allow such insubordination as Nia was showing by not coming to the Summit to go unquestioned. She did not, however, want to draw more attention to this confrontation than she had to; tension in Tondc would be high enough today and she did not want to add to it by questioning the Azgeda delegation in the town square before a crowd. She wanted the people to talk about her victory in the sparring session, not the defiance of the Ice Bitch.

Even as she arrived at the gate, it began to swing open to reveal the Ice Nation delegation riding into Tondc on their white horses. The snarling curl of her lip and boil of fury in her stomach was instinctual at the sight of the white paint on their faces, of Nia’s mark on them.

_Remember: do not let emotion cloud your judgement. You may hate Nia, but you need her army and you cannot blame every member of the Ice Nation for her crimes. You know this; do not forget it._

The man at the front of the group pulled to a halt just inside the gate, quickly dismounting and leading his horse towards her.

“Heda,” he said, just about inclining his head in a bow. Lexa could feel the anger burning in her blood as her nostrils flared.

_Focus._

“Where is Nia?” she demanded, her voice quiet but hard and almost bursting with rage.

“Queen Nia,” he said, his cold grey eyes on hers, “has sent me to represent her at the Summit today. I am Gordak, her first general. She sends her regrets but has some important matters to attend to which prevented her from joining us.”

“I see,” she replied, working hard not to hiss and spit and roar at ‘important matters’.

There was nothing she could do at this point to change the fact that Nia had disobeyed her and she needed to keep things at least civil at the meeting today. The Ice Nation’s army was the biggest out of all of the twelve clans; she could not afford to lose them.

“Welcome to Tondc,” she said though she could not stop the anger that burned in her eyes. “Please make your way through to the village square; the other clan delegations have gathered for food in the meeting hall there. There will be plenty for you and your warriors.”

“Thank you, Heda,” he nodded, but Lexa could see the small smirk on his face and something in her snapped.

“Your queen _will_ answer for her impudence,” she hissed. “She wishes to provoke me into something rash by her actions here; it did not work last time and it will most certainly not work today. You know as well as I and every other warrior in the Coalition does that she resorts to these craven attempts to disrespect me because she has neither the skill nor the courage to face me in battle herself.”

She drew herself up, inwardly frustrated at having allowed herself to be goaded into saying so much. She could see the anger in his cold eyes mixing with wary fear.

_You need the Ice Nation; you need its warriors to be in your Coalition. They may have been ruled and influenced by Nia for far too long, but they are not her._

“The Ice Nation deserves better leadership,” she carried on, her eyes hard and challenging as she looked at him. “If she does not change her ways, I will personally see to it that they get it. Now, go. Eat.”

She watched his anger being diluted slightly by drops of uncertainty. He stepped back, bowing slightly but this time with no smirk, before turning back to his people. He mounted his horse again and led the Azgeda delegation into Tondc.

Lexa carefully let out a breath as she watched them go, intensely aware of Trikru eyes on her and on the backs of the Azgeda as the gate guards looked on.

“Back to your posts,” she ordered them sharply before turning and striding back through the village.

She tried not to wonder whether or not she would have snapped like that if she hadn’t already had tension thrumming unstoppably through her bones because of Clarke’s absence.

_You cannot allow your leadership and decision making to be affected by feelings. You must feel, but you mustn’t be ruled by your feelings. The distinction is slight but it is crucial._

_You are the Commander; you can and will master this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, let me know what you thought.
> 
> If you are sad, have an internet-hug from me – we can attempt to alleviate our sadness together.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys….so, uh, sorry about the drastically overlong gap between the previous chapter and this one! I had a combination of real life issues, internet access issues and writer’s block, all gathering together to make this take forever to write and post. I actually ended up writing something entirely separate (which I will post after I’ve posted this) in an attempt to break the writer’s block, but it only halfway worked – I started writing again, but it was in a ‘I can just about write two sentences per day’ kind of way, so if this is really terrible and disjointed then I apologise. Feel free to tell me to give up on writing anything ever again! Melodramatic as it sounds, I’m still blaming this on 3x07 trauma – I’m pretty sure anyone reading this can relate.
> 
> If, by some miracle, this has come out better than I thought and you guys still enjoy reading it, then don’t worry I do fully intend to finish this. I love these characters too much (as I’m sure you can understand) and I want to finish their story if it kills me (melodrama alert). I am, as you might guess, going to change my original plan for the story which was going to be to write the story pretty much exactly on canon but with more detail. The trauma (melodrama alert) of 3x07 was enough one time; I’m not going to put us through that again. I haven’t figured out exactly what I’m going to do when I get there yet but at current writing rate I have plenty of time to plan… 
> 
> Anywho, apologies again for the delay, I hope you aren’t too angry with me! Here it is, I hope it’s not as disjointed as its writing process was... 
> 
> (And with that ringing endorsement…)
> 
> Enjoy!

**Chapter 10**

“Welcome, all of you, to Tondc,” Lexa began, the room falling silent as the expectant faces from each of the twelve clans and the Skaikru delegation turned towards her. “I have called you here because here and now we finally have a real opportunity to beat back the Mountain and its people who have hunted us for far too long. With the sheer might of our Coalition and the information and technology of the Sky People, we will _make_ the Mountain fall; victory will at last be ours.”

A rumbling murmur of approval rolled around the room and Lexa felt hope tighten in her chest. She raised her hand for silence.

“Now that you have all eaten, Indra and her people here in Tondc will show you to your quarters. Go, settle yourselves, and at sunset I will hold a meeting with the leaders of each clan here where we will begin to build our plan to tear down the Mountain, together.” She looked around the room, meeting every eye and holding the gaze of every sceptic for just that little second longer, marking their faces in her mind. “Go.”

The silence broke in the scraping of benches being pushed back and the muffled thudding of many feet as her people began to move. She watched as Indra began barking out orders to her people, directing and pointing and leading until the hall was nearly empty and only Lexa was left.

It felt almost peaceful down here now, the dim light and the quiet insulation soothing after the tension that she had felt in the air when it was full of so many wary people.

_This war has been raging for many years; be glad that you are about to end it. Enough has been said and done; they will follow your lead._

She closed her eyes for a few moments, taking in the stillness, letting the familiar ritual of meditation ease her own tension as she continued to force down her own irritated disappointment that Clarke would not be there for this most important meeting.

_Enough. Go._

She made her way back up the stairs, composing her features carefully before exiting the building. She saw Marcus and Indra stood together a few metres away, Kato and Reesa and another warrior she wasn’t familiar with watching over proceedings just beyond them.

“Heda,” Indra inclined her head as Lexa approached and Marcus turned to see her.

“Commander,” he smiled. “It’s an impressive sight, leaders from all twelve clans gathering together, warriors from all over working so efficiently together.”

Lexa saw Indra’s barely contained eye-roll but was pleased to note that there was much less disgusted animosity in it than there would have been three days ago.

“This is a war my people have been itching to fight for decades. They know it is finally time for action.”

She had to work hard to keep her voice firm and unhalting because as she spoke she caught sight of bright gold hair a hundred yards or so away.

_Clarke?_

_Clarke._

Clarke was striding through the streets of Tondc towards her, Octavia by her side and Ryder a pace behind.

It was hard not to stare, not to just drink in the sight of Clarke safe and whole and _here_ and walking with such purpose.

_Focus._

She drew a breath carefully through her nostrils and re-centred herself.

 _Don’t let emotion cloud your thoughts,_ she reminded herself sternly, resting her newly recovered arm on the hilt of her new sword.

“Clarke of the Sky people has honoured us with her presence,” she said in an attempt at sarcastic detachment.

“I'm sorry I'm late, Commander,” Clarke replied in her raspy voice, her blue eyes anxious. Lexa felt a split second of gratification that Clarke was apologising before she realised quite how much tension was on the blonde’s face, quite how afraid she looked. A quick glance at Octavia told the Commander that Indra’s second had noticed something was off with Clarke too.

“You made good time,” Marcus said, a question in his voice. “I assume the kids at Mount Weather are ok?”

“For now,” Clarke replied briefly before her eyes locked straight back to Lexa’s. “Can we talk in private?”

It was clear to Lexa that something was very wrong.

“Yes,” she replied, keeping her face and voice neutral as she turned. “This way.”

She led the way back towards the now-empty meeting hall, Clarke and Ryder trailing behind her. She was pleased to see he was sticking so close to Clarke even here in Tondc, but she had the impression that Clarke would not speak her piece in his presence.

“Thank you, Ryder,” Lexa said they approached the door. “You are relieved for now.”

“Heda,” he nodded his understanding, turning away as Lexa led Clarke into the building and down into the council room.

“We overheard Mount Weather Command through the radio,” Clarke began as soon as they were alone. “They know about the meeting tonight, they know that we’ll be here. They’re going to send a missile. They’re going to destroy Tondc.”

Lexa felt her blood freeze and all the voices of Commanders past came rushing in unison to tell her one thing:

_You cannot let the Flame be destroyed. You may die by sword or by bullet, but not like this. You must protect the Flame at all costs._

And she knew they were right. Without the wisdom of the past Commanders to guide them, her people would be lost; she could not risk the Flame to the awesome destructive power of the Mountain’s missile.

 

* * *

 

“They’re going to send a missile. They’re going to destroy Tondc.”

Clarke saw Lexa’s entire body go rigid and silence rang in the room for a second.

“A missile?” she questioned, her voice low, her eyes searing into Clarke’s as if searching for a hint of doubt. “You're sure?”

“Yes,” Clarke confirmed, trying to keep the fear and the guilt from her own voice. It was her fault; she’d sent Emerson back to the Mountain with a threat and now they were responding. “We have to start evacuating now.”

She watched Lexa digest this, take a breath and reach a decision, all in the space of three seconds.

“No,” she said calmly, her face betraying almost no emotion.

“What do you mean ‘no’, Lexa?” Clarke objected incredulously, completely taken aback.

“If we evacuate, they'll know we have a spy inside their walls.”

“Not necessarily,” Clarke tried to object but Lexa cut her off, all-but rolling her eyes as she did so.

“We can't risk it,” she said, again her voice emotionless as she moved across to the table to study the map. Clarke felt her anger rising.

“What's the point of having an inside man if we can't act on what he tells us?” she demanded, closing the gap between them again.

“Is the acid fog disabled?” Lexa asked, turning her gaze calmly to Clarke again. “Is our sleeping army uncaged?” Clarke could only shake her head. “Then Bellamy's job is not done,” Lexa continued, her voice hardening slightly. “Without him, we can't win this war.”

“So what are you saying?” Clarke asked, trying to keep her cool and increasingly failing. “We just do nothing, let them bomb us?” The insanity of this plan did not lessen in Clarke’s eyes as her statement rang in the silence; she watched almost disbelieving as Lexa studied the map for another few moments in apparent dispassion.

“It will be a blow,” the Commander just barely conceded, “but our army will be safe inside the woods and it will inspire them.”

_‘It will inspire them!?’ Holy shit, Lexa!?_

Clarke’s mind was running unstoppably through images of what she’d witnessed here in Tondc, of how much the people here loved their Commander, of how much they revered her. 

_And she’s willing to sacrifice them to win this war._

Clarke swallowed, trying hard to wrap her mind around this ‘big picture’ approach, trying to grasp at Lexa’s cold hard logical reasoning.

She remembered how quick Lexa had been to offer her own life as sacrifice when they’d been fleeing the pauna; even now, Clarke was fairly certain they’d do better with Lexa as the Commander than any of the other Grounders.

“And what about us?” she asked, ready to explode at one hint of ‘my spirit will choose wisely’.

“We slip away; right now,” Lexa said, turning to Clarke and meeting her eye. “Put this on,” she instructed, passing a dark shawl to Clarke before turning and striding back towards the exit. 

Clarke was so taken aback it took her a moment to comprehend what she’d heard. Lexa was going to let Tondc burn while she saved her own skin. Clarke didn’t know if she was more horrified or disbelieving; she knew she hadn’t known Lexa long but it didn’t seem to fit.

“Lexa, wait,” she called her back, striding after the Commander and needing this all to just stop for a second as her own fear and guilt threatened to consume her. “You don't understand. I provoked Mount Weather. I sent a message to distract them from Bellamy-”

“Clarke,” Lexa cut her off firmly, “sometimes you have to concede a battle to win a war.”

“No,” Clarke objected, unable to swallow this lesson, unable to take that emotional step back. She could feel herself shaking, her mind flitting around as she desperately tried to come up with an alternative plan. “We can inform the leaders of the clans,” she started, hope flaring in her chest at the idea even as she determinedly ignored Lexa’s patronisingly impatient eye-roll, “pick a rendezvous point in the woods. Each of them can slip out separately-”

“And how many more people will they tell?” Lexa cut her off, her voice beginning to rise at last. “Where do we draw the line?”

“Well, then cancel the meeting!” Clarke burst out. “Start a fire, something!

“Clarke, we don't have time for this,” Lexa just ignored her suggestions, stomping down on Clarke’s hope as she turned and walked away.

“No, no!” Clarke exclaimed, stepping forward and grabbing Lexa’s arm, pulling her around face her. “This is wrong!” she asserted forcefully, searching Lexa’s eyes for some recognition of this fact. To her surprise it was there, clear as day in the shadows of Lexa’s eyes as her green gaze bore back into Clarke. She found herself having to swallow hard and almost retreat a step as the Commander advanced on her, her pale eyes hard with pain and grief and determination.

“It's also our only choice, and you know it,” she hissed. “You could have warned everyone up there, but you didn't. You said nothing, not even to your own people.” Lexa paused, letting the silence ring; the truth of her words pressed down on Clarke’s chest, flooding her with yet more guilt. “This is war, Clarke. People die. You showed true strength today; don't let emotions stop you now.” Clarke had no riposte, no argument to give, no defence; she could only stand there and let the truth batter her into submission. She could take no comfort in the fact that her actions had won her Lexa’s respect. “It's time to go,” Lexa’s voice was almost gentle before she turned and marched up the stairs out of the room.

Clarke took a deep breath, tried to find an alternative, anything, but could only blame herself.

Herself and the Mountain Men.

 

* * *

 

“You need to cover your hair, it’s too distinctive,” Lexa murmured quietly as Clarke arrived at the top of the stairs. She just about held in the urge to reach out and tuck the shawl more securely around Clarke’s hair herself. She watched as Clarke did as she bid, her eyes still a stormy sea of doubt.

Satisfied that they were as disguised as they could be, both of them with hair covered and Lexa’s pauldron and sash hidden, Lexa glanced quickly outside.

“Nobody is watching the door,” she murmured quietly to Clarke beside her. “If we move quickly and quietly, we can get out of the village without causing panic.” She looked at Clarke, meeting those troubled eyes and willing her to see the necessity of their actions. She needed Clarke to come quickly and quietly with her or all would be lost.

She watched as Clarke swallowed down her objections and nodded.

“Let’s go.”

They slipped silently from the building, keeping their heads down and their shoulders hunched against recognition. It made Lexa’s skin crawl to think that this deception of hers would mean death for the people of Tondc, that she would live to see them die knowing that she could have saved them-

 _Concede a battle to win a war_ , she reminded herself firmly. _There are more lives that will be saved, that will be avenged, if you hold on to strength now._

Carefully they made their escape, the encroaching darkness of evening aiding them as the increasing shadow hid their faces. They reached the tree line but Lexa knew they needed to get much further out than that. She heard Clarke’s footsteps falter behind her and turned to see the blonde stood still, staring back at the village, her face a picture of doubt. She could see her desire to go back, to warn the people.

“Clarke, we have to keep moving. We're not far enough away.” She could still see the doubt and took a few steps back to meet the other girl, watching as Clarke dragged her eyes away from the village to meet hers. “The last time they used a missile, it was before I was born,” she kept her voice low whilst trying to convey the urgency that was beating in her veins, even as Clarke glanced back at the village again. “According to legend, it left a hole in the woods you could not see across.” The blonde’s face twisted in pain, knowing that this was the fate awaiting Tondc. “Now let's go.” Lexa turned to stride away only to hear Clarke start to argue again.

“What if we made them miss?” The hope in Clarke’s voice was almost painful to hear.

“You're not listening,” Lexa ground out, taking another step towards her, wishing that for once in her life Clarke would just do as she was told. “With a weapon like that, you can't miss.”

“Yes, you can,” the blonde retorted with that spark of defiance that at any other time would have made heat flare in Lexa’s chest. Now it made her want to yell her frustration. “I heard them talking about a spotter, someone in the field to aim the missile. If we could just find him-”

Suddenly Clarke stopped talking, her face frozen in another degree of horror as she stared at something back in the village.

“No!” Clarke exclaimed, her voice catching. Lexa quickly followed her gaze and felt her heart sink. “What's she doing here?”

“Clarke, you can't go back,” Lexa began quickly, desperate to cut off any plans the blonde might have to save Abby at the risk of her own life. Lexa’s chest tightened horribly as the Skaigada ignored her and dashed off back through the trees towards the village. “Clarke!” she called after her but Clarke didn’t so much as turn her head.

Lexa stared after Clarke’s disappearing silhouette, fighting hard to hold in the deeply rooted desire in her chest begging her to run after Clarke, to save her from what seemed an inevitable death.

 _You_ cannot _risk the Flame; it_ must _be protected at_ all _costs._

 

* * *

 

Clarke was almost frantic with fear, its icy cold fingers prickling through her chest as she ran. She couldn’t let her mother die.

She ran as fast as she could, hoping she wasn’t drawing too much attention to herself. She could almost feel Lexa’s frustration lasering into her back, hear the echo of her words: ‘love is weakness’.

_So I should be ashamed of not being the kind of ‘strong’ that lets my own mother die?!_

Her mind was whirling and her blood pounding as she made her way back to the village, trying to keep to the shadows as she searched for her mother.

_There!_

She grabbed Abby, pulling her sharply from the main street and out of sight.

“Mum, what are you doing here?” she demanded, fear and panic sharpening her voice and destroying all sense of tact. “I told you to stay back at camp.”

“Enough, Clarke,” Abby shrugged her off, anger rising in her tone. “I'm the Chancellor. I don't need your permission to go-”

“No!” Clarke stopped her, unable to allow her mother time to get started. “We have to leave, now.”

“What is going on?” Abby narrowed her eyes, suspicion crawling all over her face.

“We can't be here. Mum, I am begging you. Please.” She watched as fear began to settle in her mother’s eyes, just enough to make her accede to Clarke’s demand and Clarke seized the opportunity, taking her mother by the arm and pulling her away. “Come on.”

They walked as hurriedly as possible whilst trying not to look conspicuous, Clarke willing her mother to keep her head down and just follow her for once. Fear was clamping ever tighter around her ribcage as she hustled them through the village and out into the woods beyond.

But even as they made it out of the village, the grip of fear in her chest didn’t lessen. Clarke could almost feel the missile breathing down her neck, that imminent rain of death that she had brought on Tondc and the surrounding area.

“Wait!” Abby cried, stopping as they made it over the crest of a small hill only a few hundred yards away from the village.

“No,” Clarke cut her off, terror screaming in her veins in the knowledge that they weren’t far enough away. “We can't stop. There's no time.”

“I am not taking a step further until you tell me what is happening-”

And then they heard it, the roaring whoosh, saw the blinding blaze of fire through the sky.

It was as if the very earth beneath them exploded.

Hot air and flames billowed towards them, knocking them off their feet and into darkness.

When she came around, the world seemed to have gone completely silent and then a loud whining sound started. For a few groggy seconds Clarke wondered what system the technologically simple village of Tondc could possibly have that was making so high-pitched a noise, before she realised that it was in fact the ringing in her own ears.

Muffled by the whining in her ears, she could just about make out sounds of screaming coming from somewhere in the distance.

She opened her eyes, blinking hard as she tried to focus her vision. She made out the familiar shape lying beside her.

“Mum. Mum, are you ok?”

“Oh, my God,” Abby mumbled as she gingerly pushed herself up to a sitting position. Relief flooded Clarke briefly as she saw that her mother was unhurt, but then the reality of the situation kicked back in.

“Come on. We can't be here,” she said, trying to gather herself as well as urge her mother on. “We... we have to go.”

Abby met her eye for a long second and Clarke saw the moment when she put it all together 

“You knew,” she murmured, her eyes filling with horror. Clarke’s insides twisted. And then Abby’s eyes rose to meet hers again, this time full of fire and accusation. “You knew, and you let this happen?”

“We had no choice-” Clarke tried to defend herself even as she felt her heart shredding at the repulsed look on her mother’s face.

Abby turned away again, staring back in the direction of Tondc, the echoing screams still rending the air as the flames continued to burn.

“So many people,” she murmured. “Our people.”

“We had to protect Bellamy,” Clarke tried again as her mother’s burning eyes came back to focus on her. “Without him-”

“Oh, stop it!” Abby cut her off, her voice riddled with disgust. “I don't want to hear it.”

“Mum-” Clarke was practically pleading now as they scrambled to their feet, her already-shattered heart unable to take this from her mother of all people. Oh how she wished Lexa was here to defend their actions with her implacably calm logic.

“Tell me this was Lexa,” Abby demanded, not even trying to mask her horror. “Please, Clarke. Please tell me this wasn't you.”

“I wish I could,” she murmured, well aware that Lexa had been right when she’d said that Clarke had chosen this for herself when she’d waited until they were alone to break the news.

She swallowed hard, willing herself not to feel as she watched her mother’s horror and disgust deepen.

 _Keep it together, Clarke_ , she told herself firmly. _You know it was the right decision, you can’t let mum screw everything else up now. We did this because of the bigger picture; don’t let mum ruin that._

“You can't tell anyone about this,” she said, working hard to keep her voice steady as her mother stared at her incredulously, her inability to see the big picture obvious. “If anyone finds out that we knew, the Alliance of the Twelve Clans will break. We'll lose the war.”

“You crossed a line,” Abby said, judgement layered thickly in her voice.

“Mum-” Clarke tried to cling to her big picture but Abby wouldn’t let her.

“Their blood is on your hands and, even if we win, I'm afraid you won't be able to wash it off this time,” her voice crackled with grief and anger and disgust; every word fell like a hammer blow. “Don't worry,” she practically spat, “your secret is safe with me.”

“Mum,” Clarke tried again, feeling the pressure of her own grief and guilt building up through her chest and crowding her throat. Abby turned and stalked away. “Wait!” Clarke cried, her voice cracking as a tear burst free, trailing treacherously down her cheek. “Mum!”

But Abby had gone, left the daughter she was so disgusted with to wade through her guilt alone.

 

* * *

 

Lexa felt the blast like the ground leaping under her feet, knocking her to her knees.

Just for a moment she couldn’t move. The weight of her decision that day, correct as it may have been, pressed her down into the mud beneath her. Every life lost today was one that she had chosen to sacrifice for the sake of this war; much as it could not be helped, it was almost too much to be borne.

_What’s done is done; you know that more of your people will be saved by this decision than were condemned by it today._

She pushed herself quickly to her feet, dashing away the tear that was tracking down her face. She turned, taking a few deep breaths as she watched the blazing light that was the remains of Tondc glowing in the distance.

Blue eyes and blonde hair flashed in her mind and the pain in her chest screwed another notch tighter.

_She could still be alive._

Lexa tried not to let hope flare too much, tried not to let herself be influenced by emotion.

An image rose in her mind of Clarke lying injured and bleeding on the ground, alive but needing help, needing her-

_No! I can’t go back; I can’t risk the Flame and I can’t risk being seen. If they see me they’ll send another missile._

And then the next thought dropped like an anvil to the stomach.

_If they see Clarke alive they’ll send another missile._

The loud voice that had been screaming at her to run back and find Clarke suddenly came front and centre in her mind and Lexa realised that she should actually be listening to it. Immediately she broke into a sprint, dashing back the way she’d come, flitting between the trees like a shadow, determined not to be seen even as she ran.

As she got closer to the burning wreck of Tondc, she began to hear the sounds of her people crying out in pain, the wailing screeches of loss and agony. A thunderous rumble of fury was building in her chest but she refused to let it take over, refused to let it overrule her mind.

She made it back to the ridge where she and Clarke had parted ways and paused. She could smell the stench of the fire and it burned into her lungs as she peered through the smoke, trying to make out the scene down in the village, trying not to hope so hard that she’d see Indra standing strong and uninjured, barking out orders to her warriors, or that she’d see Clarke scrambling up out of the village into the cover of the woods, alive and well.

_A fool’s hope._

She ran on, dashing down the hill toward the smoking remains of the village, her eyes darting around in search of Clarke and dreading what she might find. Suddenly her eyes were caught by something bright moving fast through the trees, it looked like fire but it was moving too fast-

_That’s a horse on fire._

She swallowed hard, refusing to allow herself the luxury of revulsion.

And then she saw her, a hooded figure, stumbling in a daze along the path the horse had fled down.

_Clarke._

Lexa ran, she could see now what Clarke was stumbling towards, a woman collapsed and bleeding to death from her horrific injuries. The beautiful compassion of Clarke’s healer’s heart was going to get her killed if Lexa didn’t stop her from being dragged back into the melee of Tondc, into the line of sight of the Mountain Men.

“Clarke!” Lexa hissed as she made it to the road, wanting to get the Skaigada’s attention but not to call her name too loudly in case the Mountain could hear her.

_Come on, Clarke, listen to me!_

The blonde seemed almost unable to hear her, still stumbling further down the path to the fallen woman.

“Clarke!” Lexa grabbed Clarke by the arm as she caught up to her and pulled her around. The horrified fugue state that Clarke seemed to have fallen into was clearly still holding sway and Lexa could see the unfocused pain swimming in her blue eyes.

_We don’t have time for this._

She shook Clarke hard by the shoulders, calling her name again, forcing her to meet her gaze until that light of focus began to flicker back to life.

“I could have warned them,” Clarke’s voice was broken and hollow. “I could have saved them.”

“If they see us, they'll strike again,” Lexa reminded her, keeping her voice low and calm, trying to help Clarke focus on the task at hand, to help her move forward with some kind of clarity of mind. Clarke tried to pull away, to go help the dying woman, but Lexa held her back, knowing there was nothing that could be done for her. “Victory stands on the back of sacrifice. You know that.”

She watched Clarke’s face as the blonde’s rationality came back enough for her to digest the reality of their situation; and then she saw deadly rage rise from the ashes of her pain.

“I want the Mountain Men dead,” Clarke practically growled, her voice no longer broken but full of fiery vengeance.  She raised her gaze and Lexa could see the fury burning in her eyes. “All of them.”

Lexa felt a jagged twist in her chest. She knew that this almost incandescent rage would give Clarke the strength to be the leader she’d need to be to win this war, but Lexa would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that it hurt to see Clarke’s innate compassion being stripped away by the rigours of war, by grief after grief, pain after pain. 

Lexa knew well what it was to be hardened by the violence and grief of this life, to let herself become hollow and cold in order to be strong for her people, but Clarke did not have the wisdom of past Commanders within her to guide her back to her path, to bring her back to that fine line between wisdom and strength and compassion and power.

_She does not have the voices of Commanders past, but she does have you._

She took a breath, her eyes still locked into Clarke’s furiously blazing blue gaze, and nodded.

 

* * *

 

Clarke’s insides felt like they’d rusted over, twisting, stabbing shards of pain lancing through her with every step as she followed Lexa through the trees. The memory of that woman’s face kept flashing in her mind, her uncomprehending horror as she stared at her own arm lying separated from her body, the smell of death and smoke thick in the air.

The memory of her mother’s face as she realised what Clarke had done.

She didn’t know where Lexa was taking her and for a moment had to wonder at the fact that she apparently still trusted the Commander enough to follow her without question through relatively unfamiliar territory.

_As opposed to trusting her enough to let her convince you that not warning people about an incoming missile was a good idea?_

_I can’t blame that on Lexa,_ she reminded herself with another sharp stab of guilt. _I chose to keep quiet before she even knew about the missile._ _The only difference between us was that she was strong enough to admit to herself what she was doing straight away._

_She’s been making decisions like this a lot longer than I have._

Clarke tried not to wince like she always did when she thought about the harsh realities of Lexa’s life. She didn’t know much of the other girl’s history but it didn’t take much calculation to think that Lexa must have been forced to make this kind of awful decision from far too young an age.

_That at least makes some sense of how she keeps so calm. If death and grief are the home she grew up in, why would they make her lose it now?_

_But just because she doesn’t let herself feel it anymore, doesn’t mean that I have to make the same choice._

Suddenly the air was split by the cracking sound of gunfire echoing around the valley. They both froze, turning to look back where they’d come from as another shot rang out, and another and another.

Clarke’s mind was racing, first relieved that the shots fired might mean some Arkers survived before her brain caught up with reality and she figured it out:

“The spotter,” she said, thoughts and fury firing as she put it all together. “He aimed the missile,” she carried on, urgency rising in her voice as she strode past Lexa to move towards the sound of the gun. “He's alone.”

“Clarke, just slow down,” Lexa stopped her, pulling her back by the arm and forcing Clarke to face her again. “If he is a spotter, he's here to make sure we're dead. If he tells the Mountain were alive-”

“He won't,” Clarke cut her off, feeling her anger like acid in her veins and letting it give her the strength to say it with conviction and certainty.

“How can you be sure?”

“Because I'm gonna kill him.”

She watched Lexa take in her words, watched surprise and understanding and then something darker and harder to categorise flit across her features. She wanted to see Lexa bursting with the same vengeance that was coursing through her; she wanted to see Lexa giving in to the same fury that was burning through Clarke.

_I want her to validate my feelings._

She shied away from the shameful realisation and turned away from Lexa, unable to look at her calm understanding any more.

 _Shut up!_ she practically snarled at her frantic mind, finding relief only as the swell of her anger and pain drowned out the voices of doubt in her head.

 

* * *

 

_She needs to understand what she’s doing, why she’s doing it. Lashing out now from pure anger will hurt her. If she thinks killing this man will make her feel better, will give her even a fraction of satisfaction or peace, it will hurt her when she discovers that it hasn’t and that she has killed a man, a soldier not a decision maker, with intent and forethought._

_You might not be able to prevent that. She is as stubborn as she is strong._

_I have to try._

“It'll be light soon,” Lexa murmured as she followed Clarke along the ridge. She needed to find a way to break through the wall of pain and anger that Clarke had surrounded herself with. “We won't have the darkness to hide us.”

“Neither will he,” the blonde replied tersely, her voice crisp and heavy.

“I feel your anger, Clarke,” Lexa began but was cut off.

“Do me a favour,” Clarke muttered, not even looking around to Lexa. “No more lessons.”

“You need to focus,” Lexa continued, refusing to snap her frustration at Clarke’s mulishness. “We do what we must to survive. The enemy does the same.” There was a second in which Clarke almost turned to face her, almost broke from her apparent determined refusal to engage. “It's not personal.”

“It is to me,” the blonde replied, her voice curt and her eyes sticking to the path ahead.

_Come on, Clarke. Listen to me._

Lexa really did not want to see Clarke, of all people, kill a person for something so fickle as the satisfaction of vengeance.

“You think that killing the shooter will make you feel better, but it won't. The only thing that will do that is winning this war.”

“That's enough!” Clarke hissed, finally spinning around and facing Lexa with fire in her eyes.

The tight knot in Lexa’s chest loosened a tiny fraction at the hope that she might actually be able to get through to Clarke if they could discuss this properly, but before Clarke could even finish her angry outburst they were silenced by the rustling of movement in the trees only a hundred yards away.

Clarke whipped back around and they both peered into the darkness. Every muscle in Lexa’s body tensed and she reached for her sword as she saw a dark shadow dashing through the trees, staying low to the ground. She could just about make out the shape of the man as he crouched below a small ridge. Clarke drew her gun.

“Is it him?” Lexa asked, worried that in this frame of mind the blonde could shoot before she was sure.

“No,” Clarke murmured after a moment, lowering her weapon and beginning to rise. “Lincoln.”

Lexa let out a breath and also rose from her crouch.

Her heart swelled with relief at the proof that not everyone in Tondc had been killed, but even as she breathed deep of that relief she choked on the knowledge that it was only pure chance that had saved him when it could, perhaps should, have been her. She swallowed and had to fight down a strong resurgence of her own guilt. Here was a man, a good man, one among the many that she had offered up as a sacrifice for the sake of winning this war; now she had to look him in the eye, to give him orders as if she still deserved his unswerving respect and loyalty.

_It was in my power to save him, just as it was in my power to save those who weren’t so lucky. It was my decision to leave his fate to chance._

_It was the right decision; you know this._

“Clarke?” Lincoln breathed in wonder, staring in disbelief at the blonde as he approached. Lexa stepped forward to meet him and his eyes widened even further. “Commander, wh-” He cut his own sentence short, clearly unable to draw any satisfying conclusions. “Octavia said you were both-”

“You've seen Octavia?” Clarke interrupted, desperate hope thrumming in her voice.

“Yeah,” Lincoln replied quickly, the smallest flash of a smile warming his face as he met Clarke’s gaze. Lexa watched them bond over their shared relief and felt yet another stab of guilt in her stomach. “The few that survived the explosion are being pinned down by a sniper. That's why I'm here.”

Another gunshot rang out, jarring them back to the urgency of the situation.

“Come on,” Lexa urged, moving past Clarke to take the lead. “We need to get to the high ground.”

She heard Clarke following quickly on her heels and Lincoln joining them a few paces behind.

It was frustrating; she was sure she’d been on the brink of breaking through to Clarke, making her confront the fact she was being blinded by rage and pain and vengeance, but now the opportunity was lost. She could not speak to her as before with Lincoln present.

_The opportunity has passed; do not waste your own mental energy on useless frustration. The Mountain Man would probably have to be killed anyway. Sometimes you must let her make her own mistakes._

Lexa knew this was true, but it didn’t make her any happier about the fact that Clarke’s mistake was going to hurt her.

They pushed on through the trees, following the cracking sound of gunfire as best they could. The blasts echoed around the valley making it hard to pinpoint their origins but Lincoln, with his greater familiarity with the area surrounding Tondc, said he knew a place near here which would make a likely location for the shooter.

“It’s in that direction, there are rocks for cover and it’s high enough to provide the direct line of vision he’d need to be getting shots into the village,” the tall man said as they paused for a moment to confer. The cover had thinned out significantly as the dense forest gave way to mountainside scrub and, with dawn light spreading across the mountain, they became much more vulnerable to the sniper themselves if he caught sight of them. They needed to move quickly and even more carefully from this point.

“Lead the way,” Lexa nodded and stood back a little, allowing him to move past her. She let Clarke pass her by as well, refusing to analyse too much the fact that she was very intentionally keeping Clarke in the relatively safer position of between Lincoln and herself.

As they moved up the mountainside and out of the thick forest, Lexa couldn’t help but pause for a moment at the rear of the group. She turned, her stomach clenching and her chest aching at the sight of thick plumes of oily black smoke rising from the destruction of Tondc.

Much as she wished to stop Clarke, knew that the killing of this one man in furious vengeance would leave an immovable stain on Clarke’s heart, Lexa had no reservations about how they must deal with the Mountain’s leaders, with the men and women who were making the decisions that had been ravaging her people for so long.

_Blood must have blood. There will be justice._

She stared down into the valley and fought back the guilt that tried to swallow her.

_They died so that the war might be won. Go now and win it._

 

* * *

 

The sun was most definitely up by the time Lincoln stopped, turning back to wait for Clarke and Lexa to draw closer.

“When we get over this ridge,” he began, his voice a low murmur, “we’ll be able to see the rocky outcrop that I think he’s hiding in.”

“What’s the cover like?” Lexa asked, her face and voice as impassive as ever. “We need to hold onto the element of surprise if we’re going to get close enough to disable him.” Clarke felt Lexa’s eyes flick towards her.

_I have a gun; I don’t need to be that close to kill him._

“Cover’s not bad; there are still some trees and boulders, but we’ll have to stay low and move fast if we’re going to get near him without being seen.”

“Well let’s get going then,” Clarke all-but growled, her patience giving way completely to the rage that was still coursing through her and was, somehow, only sparked into greater intensity by Lexa’s apparent calm. The Commander had ceased her lectures when they joined up with Lincoln, but Clarke could still hear them ringing in her head. They only made the rage roar louder to drown them out.

Before either of them could stop her, Clarke darted past Lincoln and up over the ridge, ignoring the hissed ‘Clarke!’ that came from Lexa’s lips.

_I’m gonna kill him; he’s mine._

She tried to keep low to the ground, dashing from tree to bush to boulder as she glanced up across the snowy scree-strewn hillside, trying to make out the shape of the sniper hiding in the rocks. She felt more than heard Lincoln and Lexa as they seemed to just materialise behind her. How they had managed to move so silently she had no idea.

“Clarke-” Lexa was clearly about to start a new lecture but Clarke wanted none of it so she ran forwards again, aiming for the next large pile of boulders. She felt the others arrive behind her as she peered around the edge of the rock, searching, searching for a sign-

_There!_

Triumph and hate roared through her veins as she caught sight of something black and shiny among some rotten logs atop another pile of boulders further up the hill.

She raised her hand in the universally acknowledged sign to stop and felt the others freeze behind her.

And then she saw the barrel of the gun move.

Suddenly there was the explosive sound of bullets ricocheting off rock. They all leapt back, pressing hard into the boulder that was the only thing between them and the sniper.

“So much for the element of surprise,” Lexa breathed, and Clarke just about caught the notes of frustration mixed with tension in her voice.

“I'll draw his fire,” Lincoln said quietly, turning to move off but Clarke stopped him before he could rise from his crouch.

“No,” she spoke loud and firm, her fury defying the instinct to stay hidden. “I will.”

Without waiting for agreement, she stood and leaned around the boulder, firing her gun straight at the cluster of rock and rotten wood where the sniper hid.

Her mind was blank as terror and rage overwhelmed her. She could practically feel the sniper’s bullets flying around her, somehow, mercifully, missing her as she continued to squeeze the trigger again and again, showering him with her own deadly fire until she felt the empty hollow click that signalled the end of her ammunition.

Only then did she realise that the sniper had stopped shooting as well and she sank back to the ground, crouching behind the boulder next to Lexa as her shaking hands fumbled to reload her gun with bullets. She caught Lexa watching her for just a moment before suddenly the grunting roaring sound of hand to hand combat erupted from the brush a stone’s throw from where they were.

She met Lexa’s eyes for a split second before leaping to her feet. Clarke could practically taste the hammering of her heart in her mouth as she scrambled past the boulders towards where the sounds of the struggle were coming from, Lexa’s voice hissing urgently behind her.

A high-pitched whining sound suddenly burst through the air.

_No- Lincoln! He might still be vulnerable to-_

She swallowed hard and followed the sound, her weapon raised as she found them.

The Mountain Man was well camouflaged, his face desperate and furious and-

_His face._

_He’s not wearing a Hazmat suit._

Clarke almost swayed where she stood as the white hot pain of the implications of this rifled through her.

 _Focus!_ she snarled at herself, dragging oxygen into her lungs and holding her gun steady as she slowly advanced on the man. He had a knife to Lincoln’s throat and his eyes were wild.

“Drop the weapon,” he growled, hauling Lincoln up by the neck and using him as a human shield. His eyes burned with hatred as he glared at her, flickering towards Lexa as she appeared behind Clarke.

Every muscle in Clarke’s body tensed as she glared back at him, all her fury and hatred focusing on this man who had sent that signal that had meant death to Tondc and all its people. It was the Mountain Men’s fault, this man’s fault, that she had been forced to choose between their essential plan with Bellamy and the lives of everyone in Tondc.

_He needs to die!_

And yet she still hadn’t pulled the trigger.

The memory of Quint cowering before her as Lexa told her the kill was hers flashed in her mind.

Lincoln roared and struggled against the knife at his throat. He met Clarke’s eyes.

“Just let him kill me, then take him out,” he urged, his voice full of conviction as he asked her to sacrifice him. “Go on, Clarke. Please. Your people need you.”

Her thoughts whirled with the horrible twisting sensation of the deception coiling in her stomach. She had already sacrificed Lincoln and every person in Tondc once today and here he was, all unaware, asking her to do it again, his open, honest eyes burning into her.

_If he knew…_

She swallowed and took a breath, setting her sights down the pistol in her hand.

“You are my people,” she said, speaking the words clearly as she sent the bullet clean through his shoulder and into the Mountain Man’s chest. Her heart twisted as Lincoln sank to his knees clutching his shoulder and the Mountain Man collapsed, dying behind him.

“Agh!” Lincoln grunted in pain, breathing hard for several long moments as he gathered himself, but then he met Clarke’s eyes again. “Good shot,” he said, grinning slightly.

He was grinning. He was grinning and he was grateful. He thought she had saved his life. He didn’t know that she had made a choice just a matter of hours ago that could have left him to his death.

She couldn’t hold his gaze and her eyes darted away, praying she hadn’t given away the secret of the choice she and Lexa had made.

Her gaze landed on the dead body of the Mountain Man. She reached for her fury, for the vengeful hate that had driven her up this hillside with a deep desire to put a bullet in his heart. She reached for it, hoping to find some satisfaction to soothe herself with now that she’d achieved her goal, but all she found was a deep well of grief for all the lives that had been lost today and a creeping sense of horror at the realisation of what she’d done. The life she had taken did nothing to soothe the pain of grief or the weight of guilt; all it meant was one more soul lost to this war, to the continuing cycle of pain and death.

“Did that make you feel better?” Lexa’s voice was soft as it reached through the deafening roar of pain and guilt that surrounded Clarke.

“No,” was the only answer Clarke could give. She struggled against the water gathering in her eyes, reaching again for her anger as it seemed to be the best defence against the pain. She even tried to drum up some resentment against the evident fact that Lexa and her lectures had been right, that vengeance would not bring her satisfaction, but even there she failed. What tiny spark of anger she might have directed at the Commander was completely doused as the brunette laid a hesitant, gentle hand on her shoulder and squeezed comfortingly as she walked past her and went to help Lincoln.

 

* * *

 

Lexa took another step forward. She had to admit to the fact that at least a small part of her was impressed not only with the way Clarke had claimed Lincoln as one of her people, but with the accuracy of her shot. Even from behind, however, she could practically see the fire draining from Clarke’s body, see the way her shoulders first relaxed and then began to droop as if a heavy weight had been laid across them.

_She needs to understand that this is always the way with vengeance, that the distinction between justice and vengeance is real and significant._

She swallowed and took another step forward.

“Did that make you feel better?” she asked as gently as she could while still driving the point home.

“No.”

Clarke’s reply was swift and certain and heavy with her pain, but there was no crack in her voice. Lexa took another breath but stopped herself as the urge to speak rose.

_There are no words you can utter here that will not sound trite. She needs only to know that you understand._

She walked forwards, moving towards Lincoln where he still knelt on the ground holding his shoulder. As she moved past Clarke, she allowed herself to briefly place her hand on the younger girl’s shoulder, hoping that it would convey all the understanding that she needed it to.

“Lincoln, are you alright?” Lexa asked as she approached the kneeling man. She carefully ignored the small sniff she heard from Clarke behind her as she crouched beside Lincoln.

“It’s not too bad,” he grunted, rolling his shoulder gingerly and wincing. “I think it missed the bone. I just need to-”

“Let me see,” Clarke interrupted as she crouched beside Lexa and took authority of the situation. She pulled Lincoln’s hand away from the wound and Lexa watched as the two healers worked together to assess the damage.

She stood up and moved away to give them some room. It was good to see Clarke in her element again, apparently having forced herself to recover enough to work the wound. She seemed immediately calmer as she and Lincoln muttered together, focusing on the medicine.

“You’re going to need something to reduce the pain if you want to use this arm in the next few weeks which I imagine you do. Is there anything growing near here that we could use?”

“I’ll be fine if we just wrap it-”

“Lincoln,” Clarke cut him off and Lexa could picture the glare he was being given without even looking at Clarke.

A small shudder of distaste at herself ran up Lexa’s spine as she caught herself enjoying Clarke and her mannerisms in this moment, mere hours after an entire village of her people had been destroyed by one of the Mountain’s missiles.

_You cannot help your people by refusing all sources of joy in your life just in principle._

“I think I saw some Dalerian growing near the first clump of boulders we sheltered behind. The leaves have cleansing and numbing properties when you crush them-”

“Lexa, do you know Dalerian?” Clarke called back to Lexa and the brunette had to smirk at the fact that Clarke was clearly about to send her, the Commander of the Twelve Clans, on an errand to fetch some leaves.

_That is because she understands that leadership is not just about pride and demanding slavish subservience._

_More; she also knows that_ you _understand that._

“I do know it,” Lexa replied. She did a quick scan of the area for enemies, well aware that neither Clarke nor Lincoln were in the frame of mind to expect danger now, but as soon as she was satisfied that they were alone she jogged back down the ridge, eyes peeled for the red petals of Dalerian.

By the time she returned, Clarke was tearing strips from the shawl she had used to cover her hair, apparently ready to pack the wound and wrap it.

“Crushed like this?” Lexa asked Lincoln as she crouched beside the two healers again, holding up a leaf and rolling it between her fingers.

“Yeah,” he grunted, pain apparent on his face, “but tear it a bit first. Let out a bit more of the juice.”

Lexa nodded and did as he bid, handing Clarke the ground up leaves as she finished, taking just a moment to watch her work before she recalled herself and stood again to give them space.

As she stood, her eyes were caught this time on the body of the Mountain Man where he lay sprawled a few feet away. He did not seem large and she knew that Lincoln, reluctant as he sometimes was, was a skilled fighter. She did not entirely understand how the Mountain Man had managed to get his knife to Lincoln’s throat. She remembered the strange high-pitched whining sound that had erupted during the fight and had to wonder if that, somehow, had managed to disable Lincoln at close-quarters. She frowned.

_If the Mountain Men have devices that will prevent us from fighting them hand-to-hand then we have a serious problem, regardless of whether or not we manage to get the acid fog down._

“Lincoln,” she began, walking back so she could face him without making him twist around while Clarke was trying to pack and wrap his shoulder. “What made that high-pitched sound during the fight?”

Bizarrely, he seemed first to blanch and then to find it hard to meet her eyes as if he were embarrassed.

“I, uh, it-”

“It was a high-frequency tone generator,” Clarke answered for him as she finished tying the last knots of the wrap. This answer did not mean much to Lexa but she was fairly certain Clarke already knew that. “The Mountain Men,” Clarke carried on as she rose to her feet a few moments later, “use them to control the Reapers. I think they must use some kind of pain stimulus associated with that frequency when the Reapers are being trained so they can use the tone to disable them.”

Lexa understood Lincoln’s response to her question. He still felt shame of his association with the Reapers.

“But Lincoln is a Reaper no longer,” Lexa said, meeting the big man’s eyes as she offered him her arm to help him to his feet. He swallowed hard for a moment, dropping her gaze for a second before looking up with such gratitude as he grasped her forearm with his right hand. “Why did this tone still work on him?”

“I imagine the pain stimulus is associated deeply enough that the tone is still effective long after the individual has been weaned off the drug they use to turn men into Reapers.” There was a slight question in Clarke’s voice and they both looked at Lincoln who nodded. Lexa squeezed his forearm firmly and he met her eyes again for a moment before she let go.

“So the tone generator temporarily disables those who have been trained to it,” Lexa considered, frowning. “Does it inflict any damage on them in its own right?”

“I imagine,” Clarke began hesitantly, looking at Lincoln, “that it works like a shock – painful in the moment but not inflicting too much long term damage.”

“So,” Lexa followed the thought, “if we could find more generators or recreate the tone-”

“Yes,” Clarke nodded. “We could use them to disable the Reapers too. We have another one that we took from the Mountain Men who were originally sent to assassinate me, and Raven has already created another two. She is working hard to make more; it’s just a little difficult to find the parts.”

Lexa noticed that Clarke often sounded a little defensive when she spoke of Raven; she could hardly blame her after the poisoning incident.

A stab of pain ran through her chest at the inevitable thought of Gustus, but she resolutely turned away from it.

She took a breath and nodded, her eyes wandering the ground around the fallen Mountain Man until she saw the glint of metal in the grass a few feet away. She walked over and picked up the small cylinder.

“This?” she asked, holding the device up for the others to see.

“That’s the one,” Clarke replied, meeting her eye for just a split second before returning her attention to checking Lincoln’s shoulder again now that he was on his feet.

_How strange that something so small can control a man._

 

* * *

 

It was almost dusk by the time they made it back to Tondc. Lincoln was bearing up well but he _had_ taken a bullet through the shoulder; Clarke wasn’t going to let him make it any worse than necessary. There had been a number of times she’d had to force him to stop, or rather make Lexa force him to stop, because he was clearly about to faint. His desire to get back and make sure Octavia was still alive was driving him hard despite the pain and blood loss.

Clarke was pretty keen to make sure the younger girl was still alive too, but she also had the horrifying weight of knowing that they were going to find a lot of death and destruction when they got back to the village, deaths that she had chosen to allow. She had no idea how she would ever be able to look any of them in the eye ever again.

The fact that Octavia had been able to tell that something was wrong when Clarke arrived in Tondc was not making things better.

_She’s a smart girl; she’s going to figure it out. She’s going to hate me._

_There’s nothing I can do about that. Besides, she’s also smart enough to know not to blab about it._

_I think._

_I hope._

_She might not have figured it out; she won’t exactly have had much time for riddling-_

_Stop thinking about it! There’s nothing I can do!_

She’d tried to shake the merry-go-round of guilt and worry and self-loathing by concentrating on Lincoln and on planning what came next with Lexa, but wasn’t very successful.

Lexa, as always, seemed to keep up her infuriatingly calm exterior as they walked, as they discussed moving their command centre further into the woods and moving the injured survivors of Tondc to Camp Jaha with Abby. Clarke felt like her own insides were boiling and dissolving under the pressures of the last twenty-four hours but there Lexa was with her soft voice and her regular breathing and her focussed planning, bearing it all with apparent ease. 

_Except when we stop and she thinks no one is looking._

How Lexa managed her aloof façade Clarke had no idea, but she _was_ certain that it was a façade. Each time they’d had to stop, either to drink some water from the river or to readjust Lincoln’s bandaging, Lexa had taken herself a few paces away and the façade faded. It was her eyes that gave her away; all that impassive strength replaced by aching depths of pain and guilt.

It didn’t make Clarke’s own pain any less, but it made it fractionally easier to bear knowing that not only was she not alone in feeling it, but that Lexa was still the person she’d thought she’d been discovering before they’d chosen to sacrifice a village full of their own people to a missile.

She’d thought her life had been fraught with danger and heavy decisions back when she’d had to ask Lexa for horse-riding lessons; that seemed like a different lifetime now.

But Clarke had no more time for reminiscing: they had reached the edge of the treeline surrounding what had been the walls of Tondc. Lincoln broke into a jog, exhaustion racking his body even as he pushed himself on the final stretch towards the crater, and Clarke cried out to stop him but-

“Let him go,” Lexa interrupted her, that quiet authority threaded through her voice as she gently touched a restraining hand to Clarke’s outstretched arm.

Clarke looked at her questioningly, a little taken aback.

“Are you ready?” Lexa asked, calmly meeting Clarke’s gaze and holding it for a long moment.

Clarke realised what she was asking and why. Lexa needed her to be able to meet the eyes of the survivors of Tondc, to meet Octavia’s eyes, without holding her guilt out before her like a red flag. She needed her to step up and bear that leadership burden, to stand side by side with her so that their peoples would continue to stand side by side with each other.

“I’m ready,” Clarke said, taking a deep breath and swallowing down the small protesting voice in her head that was screaming ‘ _I never asked to be a leader!’_

Lexa nodded and, together, they left the trees behind and made their way through the rubble towards the crater.

Horror and guilt rose in Clarke’s chest, but along with them came a tumultuous resurgence of anger; raging, furious, boiling anger. Families had been built here; the lives of good people and the scenes of blissfully simplistic domesticity had been completely destroyed by people who sat in well-lit dining halls and ate sweet desserts and felt no guilt about the evil that they wrought.

She stopped at the edge of the crater and stared, trying to comprehend it all even as her eyes dashed around, searching for her mother, for Octavia, for Kane, even for Indra and Ryder. She felt relief blossom as her eyes followed Lincoln’s trail just in time to see the big man engulf Octavia in as a tight a hug as his one good arm would allow, saw that same relief thrumming in Octavia’s face as she clung to Lincoln and then as the two of them turned to see Clarke and Lexa.

Clarke just had time to register the familiar sound of Jackson and her mother and feel the accompanying relief of knowing that they were safe, before she met her mother’s eyes and felt every cell in her body flood with guilt and shame. She just about managed to hold her gaze, to not show that red flag of guilt to every person there, when she realised that the growing hum of sound around them was because the Grounders had seen Lexa. The hum turned into a chant and she caught the word:

“Heda! Heda! Heda!” they shouted, joy and pride and relief in their voices as they saw that their Commander had not been killed.

Clarke could feel the guilt tearing up her spine like a hot knife; she could only imagine what Lexa was feeling under her façade as the people she had chosen to sacrifice chanted her title with such reverence.

After a moment, Lexa raised her hand and the respectful silence was instant as all eyes turned to her.

“What happened here will not stand,” Lexa began in a controlled but carrying voice, determination and fire rumbling just below the surface. “The Mountain _will_ fall.”

Clarke tried to keep her head up, to keep her own eyes full of fire; she caught her mother’s gaze and had to look down.

Silence rang for another moment and then:

“The dead will be avenged!” Lexa practically roared the words, her fist pumping into the air, and it was all Clarke could do not to flinch where she stood beside her. All that pain and rage and fury that the Commander kept so well in check seemed to rush out and fill the air in those five words. Immediately the cheers and war cries of the surviving Grounders echoed back at them in support of Lexa’s rallying call and for a moment, for just a split second, Clarke felt hope again until-

“Enough! That's enough!” Abby’s furious voice rose to cut off the cheers that Lexa had inspired, her eyes blazing with ill-disguised disgust as she looked at Clarke and Lexa. “There are still others in the wreckage. We heard them.” Her voice cracked a little as she looked around at the gathered survivors and Clarke saw her eyes drop to what she then realised was Kane’s form on a stretcher at her mother’s feet. Abby glared back up at Clarke. “Go to work!”

Clarke held her mother’s gaze for as long as she could but Abby soon turned away, back to Jackson and Kane, back to directing those around her as the medical team and the surviving villagers worked together in the rescue. There was so much happening under the surface, so much going unsaid; Clarke thought she might burst.

_We had to. We had no choice._

She tried repeating the mantra in her head but it didn’t help much.

“With our two peoples working together, we're going to win this war, Clarke,” Lexa suddenly spoke next to her, her voice almost gentle, bent on reassurance. She just about managed to raise her eyes to meet Lexa’s pale green ones and couldn’t help taking heart from what she saw in them.

Abby, the official Chancellor of the Ark, had just greatly disrespected Lexa in front of everybody and yet here Lexa was, still surprising Clarke with her ability to show graciousness, holding to the idea that their peoples could help each other, that they would be stronger together. Clarke had made a lot of Lexa’s pride, even criticising it to her face on occasion, and yet here Lexa had set aside her pride to ensure that their alliance would hold. It would probably have taken one word from her, one moment of reactive fury, and the remaining warriors of Tondc would have taken Abby’s head in a second, but now here they were, taking orders from the Ark’s Chancellor.

And what was more, Lexa was right: with the discipline and numbers of the Grounders, with Lexa’s leadership, and with the Ark’s technology all compiled with the access of their inside man, they really were going to win this war.

_This might not all have been for nothing._

“I must assess the situation here, arrange for transport for the injured to Camp Jaha, but then I will leave directly for the armies in the woods. I will send warriors back here to help with rescue and begin to plan with the new clan leaders.” Lexa seemed to hesitate for a moment before she met Clarke’s eyes steadily with her green gaze. “Do you intend to come with me or are you returning to Camp Jaha?”

And with that, as if there wasn’t enough tumult in Clarke’s heart and mind already, she was thrown back into the maelstrom of conflicted _feelings_ that were apparently undeniably bubbling in her chest surrounding the Commander. Lexa’s façade was as impressive as ever, but Clarke knew how to read past it now, knew that this particular set of her jaw meant that the brunette was hiding an emotion, that that particular tension in her stance meant she was wary of what Clarke might say.

_It hurt her feelings that I stayed in Camp Jaha and sent Kane to the meeting in my place._

It was strange; she’d suspected it might, but her own feelings had been too complicated and the situation had been too tense for her to analyse what hurting Lexa’s feelings might mean. And now to have that decision put before her again…

 _It doesn’t matter_ , she thought with an air of desperation as she tried to ignore the stir in her belly, _I need to be a part of this planning meeting. It’s got nothing to do with Lexa._

“I’ll go with you,” she said, trying to sound firm and not to react to the way Lexa’s tense stance softened and her jaw relaxed. “I should be at the planning meeting, especially seeing as Kane can’t go now,” she finished a little lamely, but Lexa just nodded.

“Good,” she said, her voice level and with no trace of the fact that she had been at all anxious about Clarke’s answer. “I will let you know when we are ready to leave. We can send a message for Raven with your Chancellor to send up a signal flare when they have disabled the acid fog.”

Clarke nodded and did her best not to overreact as Lexa laid a hand on her shoulder for the second time that day, squeezing gently before she turned and walked away.

_Holy crap. As if this situation wasn’t messed up enough already._

She took a breath and expelled it hard, hoping to shake the unnecessary confusions from her mind as she gathered herself together. She made her way down into the crater, a niggling voice in her head reminding her that she needed to talk to Octavia, to find out what the younger girl had or had not figured out about Clarke’s agitation when she arrived in Tondc the day before.

She scanned the crater until she spotted her, Octavia frozen still as her eyes locked onto something. Clarke followed her gaze as she approached the brunette and saw Indra and Lincoln apparently reconciled in a warm embrace. She felt another flare of hope in her chest.

Looking back to Octavia again, she found the younger girl’s gaze now on her.

“I thought you were dead,” Octavia said, her eyes flitting back to Lincoln and Indra for a moment before she looked at Clarke again. “I’m glad you’re not.”

It was strange seeing again the depths of Octavia’s transformation; being Indra’s Second had evidently taught her the Grounder’s ability to control the expression of her emotions as well as the ability to fight. And yet Clarke still sensed the warmth of her feeling and it made guilt crawl through her bones and fasten onto her lungs.

“You too,” she managed to respond, just about meeting Octavia’s eyes before the young warrior nodded and walked purposefully off to join her mentor.

_At least she doesn’t seem to have figured out that we knew yet._

The thought slimed its way into Clarke’s mind and she wanted to retch. She watched for a moment longer as Octavia went to assist Indra back into her battle armour before she turned away, unable to bear her own guilt in the sight of those she had betrayed.

She found no reprieve however: she’d only walked a few paces away before she came face to face with her mother. Abby came to an almost reluctant halt, her eyes flitting away from Clarke’s face while Clarke firmly composed herself.

“How’s Kane?” she asked, swallowing as she met her mother’s eyes.

_We had to. We had no choice._

“He’ll live,” Abby answered after a few moments, apparently still finding it hard to look her daughter in the face. Clarke could only nod. “We could really use your help,” Abby said in a tone of voice that suggested that these injuries were Clarke’s fault and that Clarke should therefore do all in her power to help with healing them.

Clarke took a breath and resigned herself to receiving more judgement.

“I can’t,” she said firmly. “We’re leaving.” Abby’s disbelief was plain on her face. “I’ve arranged for a caravan to take you and the wounded back to Camp Jaha.”

“Clarke-” By this point, all emotion seemed to have drained from Abby’s face but Clarke would not give her time to get started again.

“The sniper wasn’t wearing a Hazmat suit,” Clarke said simply, trying to stop the crack that appeared in her voice as she met her mother’s eye, knowing she would understand what this meant.

“The marrow treatment works,” Abby breathed, understanding flashing in her eyes.

“They’re gonna kill all my friends.” Clarke tried to sound matter-of-fact, to hold in the surging grief and anger in her chest. She watched as her mother digested this, some of that harsh judgement falling away.

“Then you’d better hurry,” Abby conceded and Clarke nodded, moving past her, needing to get away. Just as she had passed her mother however, she felt a strong hand clasp around her wrist, pulling her back around. She met her mother’s eyes, holding her gaze steadily now. “I need you to do something for me. Don’t forget that we’re the good guys.”

Clarke had no idea how to even begin to process that. If the last few days had taught her anything it was that nothing about this was as simple as being ‘the good guys’ or ‘the bad guys’.

_How does she, Chancellor of the Ark, not understand that?!_

Before she could even begin to formulate a response to her mother however, she saw Lexa approaching, purpose lengthening her stride as she walked.

“It’s time,” she said to Clarke as she passed and Clarke had never been more grateful for an out from a conversation.

She looked back to her mother and saw that she had stepped closer. Her mother reached for her, cupping her cheek with such tenderness that all the judgement she’d thrown at her since the missile almost seemed to dissipate. Almost.

“May we meet again,” Abby murmured, her eyes searching Clarke’s as she held her gaze for a moment. Clarke could only nod, attempting a reassuring smile that she knew had not met her eyes even a little bit. She stepped back and turned away, her eyes immediately searching for Lexa and finding undeniable comfort in the fact that she would be going with her and not with Abby.

_She understands. She understands something that I’m not sure mum ever will._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats, you made it to the end of the longest and most disjointed chapter ever! I hope it was at least vaguely enjoyable… Let me know either way. Seriously though, it’s quite possible that you are sitting there thinking, ‘She should really have quit while she was ahead…this story was good before and now it sucks.’ It’s a valid opinion and if enough people tell me that, I’ll take a six month break and try again…it might help, you never know! As I said at the beginning though, I am going to try and finish this one way or another, but I will totally understand if you think I need to hit pause on my attempt before I completely ruin this whole thing.
> 
>  
> 
> …stupid 3x07…


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, hi guys! I’m back…about a billion years late, I recognise. I hope, if you’re still reading this that you’ll forgive me! What’s most embarrassing is that I wrote about 90% of this chapter like days after posting the previous one, then hit some kinda crazy wall and never quite managed to get over it…my bad! I just realised a few days ago that we’re nearing a year since 3x07 which makes the fact that I’ve posted so few chapters of this since then kind of ridiculous, so I kind of ground out the end to the chapter so I could post it. And I am going to finish this fic, it’s going to happen, honest…here’s hoping those pesky walls go away!

**Chapter 11**

 

They made good time from Tondc and Lexa was pleased with the exemplary efficiency and discipline her people had shown, quickly gathering a meeting of representatives from each of the twelve clans in the central command tent so that she could brief them on what had happened and on what would happen next. The rage and grief at what the Mountain’s missile had done was understandably intense, what with many clan leaders having been killed or severely injured as well as the villagers; but the warriors kept their discipline well, allowing Lexa to channel that rage into preparations for the oncoming battle.

There were one or two raised eyebrows when Clarke had joined them wearing the silvery blue pauldron that Lexa had given her to denote her position of authority, but more than one of the warriors present offered Clarke only slightly grudging gratitude that the Skaikru had sent a medical team to Tondc. Hard as Clarke clearly found it to receive gratitude right now, she managed it well enough, and Lexa could not be but pleased to see her warriors showing Clarke and the Skaikru some more respect.

Once the meeting had finally been disbanded, the clan representatives dispersed back to their camps to spread the news both of what had happened in Tondc and of the signal flare they would be watching for. She had ordered those who had come with her from Tondc to go with Indra and find food and places to rest in the surrounding Trikru tents as they would need to be ready for the fight in the coming days. Lexa herself could feel her own weariness pressing heavily against her chest; not only did she have the emotional exhaustion of the previous day’s decision and its effects, but she had also had two full nights without sleep in the last week, one the night of the missile and one the night she and Clarke escaped the Pauna. Even someone of her training and resilience could not help but feel tired after that.

And yet, when Clarke had not left her tent with the others, Lexa could not bring herself to object.

_You need to rest; you both do._

Lexa glanced across at Clarke where she now stood, poring over the maps and plans on the war table, anxiety and stress and tension pushing her shoulders up.

_She will not be able to rest like that._

Lexa took a breath and walked to the back of the tent to her own personal quarters, separated from the rest of the command tent by a slightly ragged curtain. She found, as she had expected, that supplies of food and water had been set out for her already and she carefully picked up the small table it had been set out on, carrying it back out into the main area of the tent.

“Clarke,” she spoke gently, not wanting to startle the intensely focused Skaigada. She looked up and saw Clarke turn towards her, soft candlelight lighting her face perfectly, and had to swallow for a moment. “You need to rest. Come, eat with me,” she could see the reluctance flashing in blue eyes as she spoke. “We need to maintain our strength; we won’t win this war without it.”

“I know,” Clarke said even as she turned back to the table. “I will; just bear with me a minute I need to just- to just figure out how…” She trailed off, her eyes darting across the papers on the table again.

Lexa watched her for a moment.

“Clarke?”

“Just a minute. Please.”

Lexa had to hold in a groan. She rolled her eyes, reminding herself that Clarke was still pretty new to all this.

_Give her a couple of minutes. She is tired too; she will not see immediately that there is nothing more she can do here._

She quietly let out a sigh and decided to spend those ‘couple of minutes’ giving in to the most urgent desire of her heart: she walked back to her quarters, rubbing a hand across her forehead to soothe its ache before she climbed onto the pallet of furs that made up her bed and stretched out upon it. It felt almost blissful just to shut her eyes and let the soft furs envelope her.

_Rest, but don’t sleep without eating first; you’ll need your strength._

The silence in the tent lasted maybe just over one minute before:

“What if we're wrong,” Clarke suddenly spoke, “and cutting the power doesn't disengage the locks?”

“Your people said it will,” Lexa replied wearily, opening her eyes momentarily and glancing over to see the younger girl still staring intently down at the papers before her. Raven had sent details of her plans with the medical team that had come to Tondc, along with her absolute assurances that it would work. Reluctantly, Lexa concluded that Clarke’s stress was not going to settle itself in a couple of minutes regardless of Raven’s confidence and pushed herself up from her bed. “You should rest, Clarke,” she said again more firmly as she walked towards the blonde, pulling her coat straight as she went.

“We could blow the doors manually,” Clarke spoke almost to herself, nodding as if she’d found an answer to a question.

“Plans don't last very long in battle,” Lexa told her as gently and firmly as she could, coming to stand beside the younger girl. “Tiring yourself with questions already asked and answered is a waste of energy.”

“People died for this, Lexa,” Clarke said, turning to look at Lexa and holding her gaze. “It has to work.” Her voice almost broke a little as she turned back to the table and Lexa felt her chest ache. She took a breath.

“You're doing what I did when I first took command,” Lexa said carefully, turning and moving away to get some water, remembering well the crushing fear and pressure she’d felt back then. “We can't move forward and it's giving you too much time to think. Once Bellamy shuts down the acid fog and the battle begins, everything will be clear.”

“What if he can't?” Clarke asked and the pain in her voice made an entirely different kind of ache rear in Lexa’s chest. “What if it was too dangerous and I sent him in there anyway?”

“You care about him.” The statement which was more like a question slipped from her lips before Lexa could stop herself; she tried to regulate her breathing at least a bit, tried not to look at Clarke.

“I care about all of them,” Clarke said almost tartly, and Lexa could hear her turning to face her, heard a slice of anger in her voice and couldn’t help rising to the bait.

“Yet you worry about him more.”

“I couldn't have kept us alive all this time without him. We need him.” Despite Clarke’s clear anxiety, Lexa found herself believing her and the sharp ache in her chest subsided. “And now I might be the one who gets him killed.”

“That's what it means to be a leader, Clarke,” she said, stepping forward strengthened by the force of her conviction as she saw Clarke wrestling with issues that she had long since conquered, willing her to learn from the lessons Lexa herself had learned. “The truth is, we must look into the eyes of our warriors and say, ‘go, die, for me’.”

“If only it were that easy,” Clarke almost scoffed, disbelief plain on her face before she turned back to the table. “Can we please just get back to the plan?”

“No,” Lexa refuted as calmly as she could, feeling some relief when Clarke somewhat reluctantly turned back around. “You could be a leader your people look to,” she began, searching Clarke’s face and beginning to truly realise the fact that Clarke had no idea how special she was, had no idea of her own potential. “Pour their hopes and dreams into. Someone they will fight and die for.”

“I never asked for that,” the younger girl replied with almost a hint of desperation, as if she thought that had anything to do with it, as if she didn’t realise that being a leader was part of who she was, not just a role she was playing for now. “I'm just trying to keep us alive.”

Lexa watched, considering, as Clarke turned back to the table again. She remembered Clarke’s immediately wrinkled brow of disbelief when she had told her that her spirit would choose the next Commander; she remembered Clarke’s repeated assertions that she wasn’t the Skaikru leader despite all the evidence that indicated otherwise. She remembered the look on Abby’s face in Tondc after the missile.

_She truly does not see her own capability; she’s sees herself through the lens of her mother’s clearly limited eyes. She does not even grasp the significance of what she has already achieved._

“You were born for this, Clarke,” she said as she walked forwards to stand beside Clarke at the table again. She kept her voice firm and unyielding, as if trying to will some understanding of this truth into Clarke’s heart and mind. “Same as me.”

She let it settle for a few seconds, pleased for once with the lack of riposte from Clarke even if the younger girl still looked utterly disbelieving, before she turned back to the food table behind them. She broke off a chunk of bread and some strips of meat and walked back to Clarke, determined not to take no for an answer this time.

“Here,” she said as she held the food out to Clarke. “You need to eat.”

She watched as Clarke took a breath and met her gaze for a long moment, all that fear and anxiety still clear in her blue eyes, but she did concede, nodding and accepting the food. Lexa had to hold in a large sigh of relief when Clarke followed her away from the war table back towards the food where she quickly grabbed some for herself. She had a brief moment of ridiculously intense wriggly panic in the pit of her stomach when the only place she could think of for them to sit and eat together in the tent was on her pallet bed but then she caught sight of the small platform that her throne sat upon. She led the way and was pleased, if slightly surprised, to find Clarke still meekly following her.

They sat side by side on the platform in relatively comfortable silence as they ate.

“It’s funny,” Clarke said quietly after a little while and Lexa looked at her, noting how little of the food she had eaten. “I know I should feel ravenous by now, but…” She trailed off, staring almost resentfully at the food in her hands.

“It’s hard to feel hungry when war is breathing down your neck,” Lexa nodded, trying to reassure her that this was normal. “I don’t particularly want to eat this myself, but I know that I need to.” She paused, unable not to smirk a little as she said: “The fact that it’s dried meat and rather stale travel bread doesn’t exactly help, but needs must when we are at war.”

Clarke met her gaze for moment at this and Lexa was pleased to see some of that tension dissipate as a smile tugged at the corner of the Skaigada’s mouth and softened the blue in her eyes. Warmth ran down suddenly into Lexa’s stomach.

_Careful._

_Yes, but it worked. She relaxed a bit; we both need to relax a bit if we’re going to get any rest._

“Well, you’re not wrong about that,” Clarke said, wrinkling her nose a little as she took a breath and ate another bite. The warmth spread now into Lexa’s chest. Clarke stood up then, leaving her meat and bread on the platform where she’d sat, and for a moment Lexa worried that that was all she was going to eat, but then the blonde walked to the small food table and poured more water in the cup Lexa had used earlier. There was only one cup available, but Clarke didn’t seem to have too many qualms about sharing, drinking several mouthfuls of water before refilling the cup and returning to the platform, holding the cup out to Lexa.

“Thank you,” Lexa murmured as she took it, hoping that she had a better control of her blushes than she had had in her youth. A sharp stab of pain twisted in her chest as she immediately pictured the smirking eyebrow raise that Anya had sent her the first time she had caught her sharing her food with Costia, back when Lexa was Anya’s Second and she had known Costia for little more than a week. Lexa had only been thirteen at the time and had blushed to a glowing tomato red.

It hurt to remember them but she couldn’t deny that it brought a strange bittersweet tang of pleasure as well, sitting here next to Clarke.

_It is good to remember the past and honour those who shared it with you, but equally you must look to the present and to the future. That is what they would want for you._

She took a sip of water, trying to resurface from her memories and focus on that present. She glanced to the side and saw Clarke swallow another mouthful of food with apparent difficulty and offered her the water again. It took a concentrated effort not to think about the fact that their fingers touched every time the cup passed between them; Lexa’s brain was very tired so she didn’t always succeed in her efforts.

“I just,” Clarke spoke suddenly again after a few moments, her shoulders drawing up tensely again. “I just can’t stop thinking, ‘what happens if something goes wrong?’. How am I supposed to get any sleep when that thought keeps ringing in my head?”

Lexa felt a brief moment’s surprise at this; not that this was Clarke’s problem, but that she was asking Lexa for advice. The younger girl had openly rejected more or less every piece of advice that Lexa had given her, or at least had claimed to, and yet here she was with the humility to ask.

“I know it’s hard,” she began a little cautiously, taking a moment before turning to meet Clarke’s gaze. “Learning to accept that you have planned as much as can be planned, to accept that things may change outside of our control when there are lives depending on your decisions-”

“Not really helping, Lexa,” Clarke murmured a little snidely, raising an eyebrow and looking away.

“I said that it’s hard to learn, not that it’s impossible,” Lexa countered calmly and was pleased to see Clarke’s deep blue eyes rise to meet hers again. “Remind yourself why you made those decisions, remind yourself who you made those decisions with. Do you trust that Raven knows what she’s talking about regarding the dam and the door locks? Do you trust that my generals and I know how to plan a successful battle?”

She watched Clarke’s face and was strangely relieved to see her only slightly hesitant nod.

“Then when you worry, remind yourself of that; remind yourself of your own skills in these matters, of what you have achieved already.” She saw a frown immediately wrinkle across Clarke’s brow. “I know you doubt me on that, Clarke. When I say you were born for this, it’s because of the things I have seen you achieve: _you_ forged this alliance with me, despite not even being the acknowledged leader of your people; you saved my life when we fought the pauna, despite your inexperience; you and Anya escaped the Mountain, something no one has ever done before. You have shown the kind of strength that it takes to save your people even when the cost to yourself is high.”

She could see Clarke trying to process it all, saw surprise and confusion and pain flashing across her face in all the different moments.

“You say you are just trying to keep your people alive, but you have not yet understood that that is exactly what the leader’s role is. You are the leader of your people because you, more than anyone else I have met from Skaikru, you understand the realities of surviving together alongside other clans and you automatically take responsibility for making sure that your people can achieve that survival.”

Silence rang for a few seconds and Lexa could feel a creeping heat in her own cheeks; had she not been so tired she would not have allowed herself to become so effusive. She was glad then that the cup of water now sat empty on the ground between them, giving her the excuse to stand up and walk to the water jug to refill it.

“Have faith in yourself, Clarke,” she said carefully as she poured the water, taking a breath of oxygen deeply into her lungs and steadying herself before she turned around. “You have earned it.”

 

* * *

 

“Have faith in yourself, Clarke. You have earned it.”

Clarke found herself almost believing it when Lexa said it in that calmly impassioned voice of hers, those pale green eyes burning into her from across the room. Clarke swallowed and looked down, unable to hold that gaze; she did however have to admit to herself that she found it comforting when Lexa came back and reclaimed her seat on the platform beside her.

The problem was that she knew that she’d only managed all those things by the absolute skin of her teeth; it all sounded great and reassuring when Lexa said it, but Clarke remembered how terrified she’d felt in every single one of the moments Lexa had referenced, terrified _and_ horrified. Terror and horror were hardly the best building blocks for competent leadership skills, for making decisions that would decide whether her friends lived or died.

_Not to mention of course the fact that in Lexa’s mind, good leaders allow their villages to be bombed._

_Shut up; not helping. I made that decision too._

_Exactly._

_Not helping._

“Look, Clarke,” Lexa said with a small sigh as she sat beside her, “I know it is hard to make the decisions we have to make, to trust that we _have_ made the right decisions, but we do it for a reason: to protect our people as best we can. I fight wars so that I can make peace for my people, so that those who go after me might not have to fight.”

Clarke looked at her, took a moment to really look, and saw that she believed it. Lexa’s eyes were following her own fingers as they traced the rim of the water cup and her voice was quiet, but full of that improbable power that came when she was passionate about what she was saying. 

At that moment, Lexa looked up at her again, and Clarke was forcibly reminded of why she had been worried that spending time alone with the Grounder Commander might get complicated. Sitting, listening to Lexa talk about fighting for peace and then being confronted by the sheer, undeniable beauty that lit her face at the very thought of that peace, made it impossible to ignore the tightening in her chest, or the gathering warmth in her blood. Lexa wasn’t even smiling, she just seemed to glow, every aspect of her perfectly sculpted face alight with a kind of radiance that was entirely beyond description.

Clarke had to take a breath and look away.

_Don’t go there, Griffin._

_Just don’t._

_There’s probably no point and things are more than complicated enough as it is._

_And she’s part of the reason why Finn-_

_Don’t! Don’t go there!_

She took another breath and cocked her head, eyebrow quirking unstoppably at the realisation that, if nothing else, blasting her brain with the ridiculous depths of her disconcerting attraction to Lexa had at least momentarily distracted her from stressing about their war plans.

“And then,” Lexa suddenly spoke again, a deep breath rattling through her as she resettled herself on the platform, eyes back on her fingers, “once you’ve reminded yourself that the decisions made were made with good reason,” Clarke’s brain whirred for a moment before she realised which bit of conversation Lexa was carrying on from, “the best thing to quiet a particularly repetitive, useless worry, is to distract yourself with something else important.”

“Any suggestions on that?” Clarke heard herself ask and really hoped there hadn’t been as much flirtation in her voice as it sounded.

“Well,” Lexa said, her voice carefully neutral, “thinking of the peace we fight for has reminded me that you had questions about our society and that you wanted to learn Trigedasleng.” She raised her gaze back to Clarke, an eyebrow raised. “Now may be as good a time as any to address those questions and learn some of our language.”

“It would be a pretty effective distraction too,” Clarke nodded. She hesitated a moment; these were pretty important things to be discussing with Lexa and she was increasingly aware of the exhaustion racking her own body and mind.

_Is now really the best time? Is my tired brain going to forget everything as soon as she tells me?_

“Ok,” Lexa said, evidently taking her nod as a request to begin their lessons. “What did you want first: Trigedasleng or your other questions?”

“Uh, Lexa, I-” She stopped, not wanting to say no to either whilst also not wanting to waste such lessons on her tired brain, whilst also knowing that her brain would not let her sleep yet and this would be a good distraction, and also being incredibly aware that her tired brain’s ability to fend off the increasingly strong pull of her attraction to Lexa would be increasingly limited.

_For god’s sakes, brain; shut up!_

Lexa continued to look enquiringly at her.

“I, uh, I guess I should just warn you that I am pretty tired, so I might not, uh, I might not be all that quick to learn.”

Lexa actually smiled that wonderful little smile of hers and inconveniently glorious bolts of heat shot right through Clarke’s belly.

“Don’t worry, Clarke; I understand. I hope this will not be the one and only time that we will sit and learn more from each other about the cultures we have come from.”

Clarke felt at once reassured and even more off-kilter.

“Ok,” she said, drawing a breath and firmly telling herself to get it together. “Well, I think learning some basic Trigedasleng might be the most immediately helpful given the chaos that we might find ourselves in over the next few days.”

“Wise,” Lexa murmured, nodding her agreement, and Clarke desperately tried to focus on the part of her that found this slightly patronising rather than the part that was practically purring under Lexa’s praise.

“Although I’ve got to ask one thing I’ve been pretty much burning with curiosity about first.”

“Ok,” Lexa agreed, although one of her eyebrows rose slightly and amusement was clearly tugging at one corner of her mouth.

“Do you, Grounders, do you read?”

Lexa was clearly a little taken aback.

“Yes,” she replied before frowning, the furrow running deep across her brow. “Well, some of us do. The resources for learning to read are fairly limited at the moment, it must be admitted. Most villagers do not read.”

“Do- do you read?” Clarke was fairly certain that if she’d had full use of her brain’s faculties, she would not have asked that question.

“I do,” Lexa said, the frown still not quite clearing from her face. “The Commander’s novitiates must all learn as part of their training, as do most Healers’ Seconds.”

“The Commander’s novitiates?” Clarke couldn’t help asking.

“The children from across the different clans who are discovered to have the potential to become Commander.”

_Children? Children with the potential to become Commander?_

“How-” Clarke suddenly stopped herself. Not only did she realise that she was on the verge of setting off a string of questions that could take them through the night when she had just said she’d chosen language first, but suddenly the meaning of Lexa’s words hit home.

Children with the potential to become Commander had to undergo specialised training. Presumably that meant that they had to be taken somewhere for that training.

Asking _Lexa_ how old the children are when they start their training or how the children are chosen could potentially be a pretty painful subject. The Commander had gotten control of her frown, her face and voice now carefully neutral again, but Clarke read her well enough to know that this neutrality was a far cry from the relaxed amusement that she’d had a few moments before.

“How what, Clarke?”

Clarke swallowed, trying to contain the swelling ache in her chest as she imagined Lexa as a child, all tousle-haired and long-limbed, perhaps showing some degree of her skill or quick mind and being marked out as having potential, imagined her being taken from her parents for her ‘training’.

She swallowed again, unable to look at Lexa for a moment for fear she might hug her.

“I’m sorry,” she managed to say, realising how truly tired she was as she had to really force herself to speak normally past the lump in her throat. “I’m pretty curious about a lot. But really, I think learning some Trigedasleng first would be more sensible right now.”

“Ok,” Lexa nodded and Clarke was sure that some of that forced neutrality relaxed a little. “Let’s get started.”

_Keep it together, Griffin; and pay attention!_

 

* * *

 

It was bizarre, teaching Trigedasleng. As Commander, she never taught her novitiates anything so simple as language so she had to base her lesson on the ways in which she had learned Gonasleng from Anya when she had become her Second. The problem with that was that Anya had never really given her specific lessons so much as expected her to learn by absorption; this technique had been fine when there was no particular deadline, but wouldn’t really work in an evening.

It turned out that Clarke had never learned a second language either; apparently Gonasleng was the more-or-less universal language of the Skaikru, the other languages from the times before having all but died out amongst the limited population of the Ark.

Regardless, Clarke seemed to make fairly good progress, as much as either of them could really gauge it. She seemed to have a good memory and a good ear for the words, hardly surprising given the untaught efforts she had already made. Still, Lexa would have been lying if she said that there weren’t any among Clarke’s attempted pronunciations that caused her to have to fight a smile.

More worryingly however, Clarke seemed to be increasingly able to detect it when she was suppressing a smile. There were moments when she thought she had controlled it so well that Gustus himself would not have known that she was amused but Clarke clearly caught it. There was more than one disquieted voice in her head at the thought that this Skaigada had so quickly and deftly learned to read all of Lexa’s carefully muffled emotions.

And yet, despite such worries and despite the fact that Lexa was now so tired that she could not stifle every yawn, it had been decidedly and undeniably enjoyable spending an evening alone with Clarke, teaching her to speak the language of her people, building blocks of trust for their future…

 _Be careful,_ the past Commanders exhorted her frequently. _The brink of war is not the time to be reckless with your heart. Yes, you should feel, but you must not let your feelings run away with you._

But Lexa found it increasingly difficult to follow such advice. Only an hour ago, she herself had been telling Clarke to have faith in their planning, in herself, and Lexa couldn’t help but believe that this was good advice. It was hard to turn herself away from the inexorable draw of her admiration for Clarke because of fears that it might endanger their war effort or because of fears that one or both of them might not make it through the fight. Their plan was solid, she had faith in her warriors, and every moment that she spent with Clarke only made it harder to deny the strength of her esteem. This was not helped by her increasingly tired mind’s ever-decreasing strength to resist.

“What’s the word for ‘yawn’ in Trigedasleng?” Clarke said rather archly after Lexa’s attempts at concealing her tiredness reached new lows.

“‘Ohar’,” Lexa replied, feeling slightly embarrassed at being called out on it. “Forgive me, Clarke; I-”

“Don’t apologise,” Clarke cut her off quickly, lightly touching her fingertips to Lexa’s wrist; Lexa’s whole arm seemed suddenly to be on fire. “You did say that we’d need some rest and, correct me if I’m wrong, but you’ve missed at least two nights’ worth of sleep this week.”

“Be that as it may,” Lexa conceded a little grudgingly, taking as much oxygen into her lungs as she could, “I am more than able to stay awake if your mind is still too restless to sleep.”

“Thank you,” Clarke murmured and her gaze rested on Lexa for a moment, her eyes as blue as the sky she had come from; Lexa’s guard was so low there was nothing she could do to stop herself from just staring back, soaking in her own wonder at the sight. She didn’t have the resolve to ignore the warmth in Clarke’s look, to deny to herself the possibility that Clarke might be feeling something for her too. “But I think you’ve probably distracted me about as much as it’s possible to distract me right now. We probably should try and get some rest.”

Lexa let out a breath, at least as disappointed as she was relieved, and nodded as she pushed herself to her feet.

“If all else fails,” Clarke continued as she too stood up, stretching her arms above her head and cracking her shoulders back in a way that made Lexa’s eyes widen slightly as she was unable to look away from the sight of Clarke’s already fulsome chest pushing forwards like that, “I guess I’ll just count sheep in Trigedasleng until I nod off.”

Lexa gave herself a slight shake, cursing her lack of sleep as she hoped desperately that Clarke had not noticed her ogling and would not notice her blush.

And then she processed Clarke’s words and gave herself another shake.

“Count sheep?”

“I guess that expression didn’t last down here then,” Clarke snuffed a small laugh as she looked at Lexa. “You know, you count sheep to bore yourself into sleeping?”

“What are sheep?” Lexa asked, fairly certain that if she wasn’t so sleep-impaired, she wouldn’t have bothered asking.

“What are-?” Clarke repeated, her eyes widening in apparent shock. “Wow.” The amusement slowly dropped from her face and a small frown appeared. “They’re animals; they used to be big in farming for meat and for their wool, you know, before. I guess they must have been wiped out.”

“Or perhaps just forgotten,” Lexa replied gently; clearly the extinction of a species was enough to have popped the bubble of relative relaxation that Clarke had managed to find over the last hour.

“Maybe,” Clarke murmured, her eyebrows quirking before she turned away. “I guess life on Earth has needed more fighters than farmers in the last hundred years.”

“That is something I hope to see change, Clarke,” Lexa said, wishing she could somehow wipe that frown away again.

“I know,” Clarke nodded, glancing at Lexa with an attempt at a smile that didn’t even nearly reach her eyes and had no impact on the frown. She turned away again, taking a breath so deep Lexa could hear it rattling through her lungs. “Well, uh, I guess I’d better go and see if I can find somewhere to sleep.”

It took Lexa less than a split second to realise that, with Octavia being the only other Skai person who had come from Tondc, not only was there no obvious place for Clarke to sleep but that the potential stress of trying to negotiate one could easily be enough to rejuvenate even more of the disquiet that they’d spent the last hour reducing.

_I should have thought of this earlier._

_You had other, more important things to think about earlier._

_I guess she could…_

“You could sleep here, Clarke,” she heard herself saying and immediately felt her own heart rate quadruple.

_Not like that!_

_Calm down; you are tired and it is inhibiting your thought process. There’s a simple solution._

Lexa took a breath and re-centred herself just as Clarke turned to face her.

“There are more than enough furs to make up a pallet for you in here.” She managed to keep her voice and face fairly cool and composed and, due to the fact that Clarke had been facing away from her to start with, was mostly satisfied that the Skaigada had not caught her moment of panic.

She knew she’d made the right call as something like relief flashed on Clarke’s face.

“Thank you,” the blonde said, a shadow of a smile returning to her. “I don’t think I really have the brain power to successfully find a sensible place to sleep amongst your warriors right now.”

Lexa nodded, now feeling just about calm enough to allow herself a small smile as she met Clarke’s eyes for a moment.

_You just need some rest. You will be far better able to think rationally once you’ve had a few hours sleep._

She turned and moved back towards her sleeping quarters, concentrating on taking slow, even breaths to avoid thinking about the fact that, by making a bed for Clarke out of the furs on her own bed that had probably not been changed since the last time she’d slept there, Clarke would still be spending the night on her bed.

_Slow, even breaths._

Stooping by the pallet, she gathered as many of the thickest, warmest furs into her arms as she could and tried to make a calm and rational decision about where to make this bed for Clarke.

“Make sure you leave enough for yourself,” Clarke said quickly as she appeared by the partition. Warmth suffused Lexa’s chest.

“I will be fine, Clarke,” she replied firmly, to keep herself on track as much as anything else as she walked towards the Skaigada. “Will you be alright out here? I can have a partition set up for you tomorrow if we stay another night-”

“ _I_ will be fine, Lexa,” Clarke said dryly as she took the large bundle of furs from Lexa’s arms in a move which engendered far more body contact between them than Lexa had really been prepared for. All she could do was hope that Clarke’s own tiredness was affecting her enough that she wouldn’t notice Lexa’s lack of composure.

“Ok then,” Lexa said as she backed away, clearing her throat.

_Calm down; you just need some sleep._

“Sleep well, Clarke.”

“Reshop, Lexa,” Clarke replied, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth in such a way that Lexa was utterly unable to stop the smile that spread across her own face or the fluttering warmth that spread through her veins.

 _Slow, even breaths_.

 

* * *

 

_The noise of the explosion was deafening and yet somehow Clarke could still hear the agonising screams of the people and the thundering roar of the fire. Everywhere she turned, she saw people stumbling towards her, holding out the arms that had been torn off by the explosion as blood poured from their faces, obliterating every feature._

_“You knew, and you let this happen?” Her mother’s voice cut through the screaming, her accusation and revulsion tearing into Clarke as the words battered against her. “We’re supposed to be the good guys, Clarke. This isn’t what the good guys would do!”_

_“We had to,” Clarke cried, begging her mother to understand. “We had no choice.”_

_“You did choose this though, Clarke,” Lexa spoke suddenly from behind her, amusement dancing merrily in her eyes. “You chose not to tell anyone, not even your own people. You proved me right; you’re a strong enough leader to have chosen this. Killing people is what being a leader is all about. We are what we are, Clarke: you chose all this painful death.”_

_“You chose this!” the screams of pain morphed into screaming words, flung at her by the faceless people advancing on her, their detached arms still held out before them. “You chose this!”_

_“No!”_

_“You chose this!”_

“NO!” Clarke cried, waking herself up with a start. Her heart was racing and her head was pounding and it took her a few moments to work out where she was in the darkness of the tent.

_It was a dream. It was just a dream._

_You can’t say ‘it was just a dream’ when it actually happened._

_Not all of it happened._

She lay back in the furs.

_Not all of it._

She drew a deep breath, hoping to calm herself. There was an earthy, sweet, incredibly soothing scent and Clarke could not resist drawing as much of it in as possible before she was jolted alert again by the remembrance of what that scent probably was.

_These furs are from Lexa’s bed._

_That’s Lexa’s scent._

She shot up from the bed, scrambling to get herself clear. She couldn’t bear to be soothed by the scent of Lexa right now.

“Clarke?”

Clarke jumped almost out of her skin at the soft sound of Lexa’s voice behind her. She spun around, one hand clutching at her chest as she tried to calm herself; Lexa was standing at the edge of the partition. It was clear that she had just woken at the sound of Clarke’s cry, but her eyes were alert and searching for danger in the gloom.

  
“Clarke, what’s wrong?”

Her soft voice sounded almost jarring against the ringing memories of the screaming from Clarke’s dream, of the callously amused Lexa that had gone with them; it took a few moments for logic and reality to really kick back in, to remember that it had been just a dream.

 _I saw how much it hurt her to make that decision; she hides it well, but she_ does _feel. She is_ not _callous. She was_ not _amused. It_ was _just a dream._

“Nothing,” Clarke replied as quickly as she could. “I just-” She stopped, her urge to tell Lexa about the dream quelled by the residual fear of her that lingered, no matter how irrational she knew it was. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Clarke said firmly, even though in truth she was wavering. “Yes. I think I’ve had enough sleep for now; I need some air.”

Clarke began to walk towards the exit but Lexa’s voice stopped her.

“Bad dreams are to be expected in times like this, Clarke,” Lexa said calmly, taking another step into the room as Clarke span around, unable to keep the shock from her face. “Do not let them add unnecessary layers to your mind’s unrest.”

Clarke took a breath and swallowed down the fears that rose again in her throat.

“I know,” she forced out, trying to meet Lexa’s eye but unable to hold her calm gaze for very long. “I won’t; I just- I’m not going to sleep again right now.”

It was hard to explain why she felt such relief at Lexa’s small nod of understanding.

“It is not long until dawn,” Lexa said, as if offering Clarke extra reasons to back up her desire to stay awake. “There would be little point in trying to sleep now; the camp will only get noisier.”

Clarke swallowed again but managed to nod despite the fact that her main thought at this point was that she would be glad of a noisy camp: _it might drown out the sound of screams and explosions repeating in my head._

She turned to the exit again and marched out of the tent into the cold night air, hoping that its crisp freshness would help her shrug off the remnants of the dream.

_Just don’t freeze your ass in the process, Griffin._

She took a deep breath and sighed it out as she left the tent, casting about for a task to busy her mind or her hands with. She stopped dead at the sight of Ryder, standing still and silent to the side of the tent entrance. Somehow it was one thing to have been heard crying out from a dream by Lexa, but quite another thing to have been heard by anyone else.

 _Get over it, Clarke,_ she told herself, sucking in another breath and refusing to wonder how long the big man had been standing guard there. He moved passed her into the tent and Clarke did her best not to think about it.

The light from a nearby fire caught her eye and she saw Octavia sitting by it, her face grim as she stared into the flames. Clarke’s heart jolted and shuddered in her chest at her friend’s expression.

_She’s figured it out. She’s figured it out and she’s going to hate me._

_She might not have. There’s plenty to be looking grim about right now._

_That’s a pretty angry kind of grim._

_Suck it up; go and talk to her. It might be fine._

She made her way over to the fire, trying to keep her face in a neutral, open, unguarded kind of expression.

_Yeah, because I don’t want to make her any more suspicious, do I?_

Guilt sliced through her again but she swallowed it down and sat on a log the other side of the fire from Octavia.

_I’m just going to sit down with my friend and see how she is. It’s going to be fine. Really._

“Everything ok?” she asked, trying to keep her voice light.

The heavy pause before Octavia spoke was enough to make Clarke’s stomach roil.

“I'm going over it and over it in my head,” the younger girl began, her eyes not rising from the fire and her head shaking minutely as if she was already confronting a reality she couldn’t believe, “just trying to figure out how you're still alive.” When Octavia finally did raise her gaze to meet Clarke’s, the incredulous fury in it was almost scalding.

“What are you talking about?” Clarke tried to play innocent, tried and knew she was failing.

“I saw you in Tondc before the missile hit. I know you, Clarke. Something was wrong.” Clarke couldn’t look any more, couldn’t hold Octavia’s eyes as the younger girl’s look blazed her fury into her. “And then you and Lexa disappear and just _happen_ to survive.” She paused and then practically spat the next words at Clarke. “Tell me you didn't know it was coming.”

Clarke swallowed hard, trying to find the words to say, trying to find some sense of composure with which to say them.

“Octavia,” she started and dragged her eyes up to meet her friend’s, only to falter as she saw what this confirmation of suspicion was doing, as she saw hurt and betrayal flood the younger girl’s face along with the ever-intensifying rage.

“You let all those people die,” Octavia croaked out, eyes shining in the firelight. Suddenly she leapt to her feet, evidently unable to contain her anger as she strode around the fire, her voice rising as Clarke jumped up to try and intercept her. “You were gonna let _me_ die.”

“I did it to save Bellamy,” Clarke spoke in urgent, hushed tones, one hand rising as she tried to placate the raging girl before her, “so that we could win this war. Don't you see that? If we'd evacuated Tondc, Mount Weather would've known that someone tipped us off. They would have found your brother.” Even as she spoke, she could see the disgust rippling across Octavia’s face.

“No,” Octavia shook her head, revulsion curling her lip. “Bellamy would have never told you to do that. He would've found another way.”

“I couldn't take that risk,” Clarke held desperately to her line, held to her relief that Octavia’s voice was at least lowering again.

“Right. Because you're in charge now, and you decide who's disposable.” Octavia’s words were vibrating with sarcasm, her eyes still burning with rage. “You'd have fit right in on the council.”

Clarke felt like she’d been punched in the stomach; she knew that there were few worse insults than that as far as Octavia was concerned.

“Hey, Octavia,” she just about managed to call out as the younger girl stalked away from her.

“What?” Octavia hurled the word at her with such force Clarke had to take a step back.

“You can't tell anyone,” Clarke managed after a few seconds’ recovery. “If people found out-”

“The alliance will break,” Octavia finished, apparently too disgusted to look at Clarke. “I'm not an idiot, Clarke.”

Clarke watched, unable to think of anything to say to bring her back, as Octavia strode off.

And then Clarke saw Lexa emerge from the tent, directly in Octavia’s path.

_Oh god._

_Did she hear-?_

Every muscle in Clarke’s body tensed, bracing for the moment when Octavia would loose her temper on Lexa and Lexa would respond as The Commander.

But it didn’t come.

“Commander,” Octavia acknowledged Lexa as the Commander’s eyes landed on her; the younger girl’s voice, mercifully, was evidently back under her control. Clearly Indra’s training was a force to be reckoned with.

“Octavia,” Lexa called her curtly to attention before nodding to Ryder.

“It is time for the southernmost guard post's rotation,” Ryder rumbled out, his face and voice expressionless. “You should relieve them.”

“Indra expects me to be on a scouting mission with Lincoln,” Octavia replied, a questioning note in her voice.

“Now you're needed at the guard post,” Ryder countered calmly. “Indra will join you there shortly.”

Octavia nodded and began to walk away; she only made it a few paces however before she began to turn back, her eyes burning angrily into the back of Lexa’s head.

Almost as if she had a sixth sense, Lexa suddenly snapped around, meeting Octavia’s eyes with a look that must have had enough force and authority to make even an angry Octavia Blake back down. The younger girl immediately turned and carried on her way again.

Clarke took a step or two forward as Octavia walked away, unable to quench the uneasy feeling in her chest. There had just been something in the very neutral expressions on Lexa and Ryder’s faces that made her wonder, something in the way Lexa had turned…

_Stop being paranoid; it’s just that stupid dream you had._

_But still…_

“She won't say anything,” Clarke murmured as she reached Lexa’s side.

“You can't be sure of that,” Lexa replied, her voice low and her pale eyes hard as Clarke met her gaze. “Too many people know, Clarke.”

Clarke felt a spark of her own anger rise in her chest.

_Is she threatening Octavia? She wouldn’t; she wouldn’t dare…_

“You worry about your people, I'll worry about mine,” she said, letting the acid bite of her frustration rise in her tone before she strode passed Lexa, back into the tent.

_She says I’m a leader like her; she’ll just have to trust my judgement with my people._

_And she will; she’s not the Lexa from my dream. That wasn’t real._

She took a deep breath, holding the oxygen in her lungs for a few long seconds before letting go, hoping to soothe the line of tension that was starting to grow through her mind.

_Come on, pull it together._

She saw the pile of furs that had been her bed still strewn on the floor in the middle of Lexa’s command tent and busied herself with tidying it away in one corner of the tent, remembering Lexa’s soft concern and her poorly hidden yawns of the previous evening. The jolt these thoughts sent through her chest felt almost as dangerous as the thoughts of Lexa’s unfeeling amusement from her dream.

_Get a grip._

She sighed, eyes flitting around the tent for something to settle her attention on until her gaze landed on the war table, on the maps and plans and schemes spread atop it. Almost inexorably she was drawn back to it, her disquiet about Lexa only being shoved aside by the returning flood of anxiety that the thought of all their plans and possible failures brought. Even with a few hours sleep to prop her up, it was almost overwhelming to think of how much depended on everything going according to plan, of how it could all fall apart if just one thing went wrong. All the people she could lose-

“Don’t do this to yourself, Clarke,” Lexa’s voice interrupted her thoughts, soft but powerful. Clarke turned to see the Commander standing just inside the entrance to the tent, her hands behind her back in what Clarke was starting to think of as her ‘Commander pose’. “No more good can come of poring over plans already made.”

“Yeah, well, that’s easier said than believed,” Clarke retorted, unable not to turn back to the table, to the fears that called to her.

“Come, Clarke,” Lexa said and Clarke almost resisted the power in her voice until she heard the swish of the tent flap and the sound of quick footsteps entering the tent.

She turned, eyebrows rising as she saw two young warriors’ seconds moving through the tent, one carrying what looked like a couple of small tree stumps and the other bearing two bowls of food that he then set next to the water jug on Lexa’s small table.

“Sit,” Lexa said, indicating one of the small tree stumps that the young boy had placed by the table as she took a seat on the other one. “Eat with me. _Mochof, Roba, Vinu,_ ” she added to the two boys, both of whom blushed slightly and bowed before leaving the tent.

Clarke’s eyebrows rose even higher.

_So bowing is an actual thing in Grounder culture?_

_She knew both of their names._

_Get a grip._

She swallowed, took a breath and took the indicated seat. She knew, rationally, that Lexa was right and she needed to eat, even if the steaming bowl of cooked oats didn’t look particularly appealing.

It was definitely not the same as when they had eaten together the night before. Silence hung over them like an icicle about to break; the few times she met Lexa’s eyes she felt a cold lurch in her stomach. Her green eyes held her gaze as steadily as they ever did but, somehow, there seemed to be an extra layer shielding them, something hard and impassive where usually it was Lexa’s eyes that revealed the soft warmth beneath the cold façade.

 _Stop being paranoid_ , she told herself firmly. _You’re just shaken up by that dream and by the general lack of sleep and by Octavia and-_

_Octavia._

She thought of the tense conversation between Lexa and Ryder and Octavia when Octavia had been given her new orders, thought of Octavia’s hesitance, confusion almost-

 _Stop it!_ _There’s nothing weird about Lexa or Ryder giving Octavia new orders!_

_You need to stop thinking about this. It’s fine. Find a distraction._

“Could we run back through some of what you taught me yesterday?” Clarke spoke up quickly, her own voice sounding loud in the quiet tent. Lexa’s eyes seemed to widen infinitesimally for a split second.

“Of course. It did seem to work as a successful and useful distraction.”

“Exactly,” Clarke nodded, hoping that somehow this would alleviate the weird tension thrumming through her veins.

It actually seemed to be working, for a few minutes at least, but soon Clarke realised that something was still off. The soft pleasure that had filled Lexa’s eyes when Clarke pronounced the words correctly was gone, the tiny smirk when she mispronounced them was missing; Lexa just sat across the table from her being polite and formal and teaching her language with that hard, impenetrable wall up, a gaping distance of increasingly awkward tension growing between them.

Clarke could only take so much of it before she thought she might burst, part with irritation at Lexa, part at herself for the knowledge that she could well just be being paranoid after her dream.

_But I’m not just being paranoid, she’s different-_

“I think I’m going to take a break,” she said abruptly, standing and trying to calm the increasing pound of her heart in her chest. “I need some fresh air.”

“As you wish,” Lexa nodded, rising more slowly to her feet. “Be careful, Clarke.”

Clarke froze for a split second, trying not to read hidden threats in the words, knowing that Lexa was probably just trying to look out for her, to remind her that they were in a war after all and pleasant walks in the woods weren’t really on the cards. She nodded, turned and strode from the tent.

 _It’s fine,_ she told herself as she sucked in a lungful of the cold pre-dawn air. _It’s fine; she’s just as stressed about waiting for Raven’s signal as much as I am-_

_Indra?_

_What’s Indra doing here?_

Clarke felt as if a hundred tonne weight had just been thrown at her gut as the implications of Indra being here hit her.

_Lexa lied to Octavia._

_Lexa lied._

_Lexa-_

_No! Stop! It could just be a misunderstanding!_

She walked over to the Trikru chief, trying to stay calm, to not believe the doubts in her mind.

“Indra,” she began, hoping she sounded casual not interrogative as the older woman looked up at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be on watch.”

“I don’t stand post,” Indra replied, her brows wrinkling as if this should be obvious.

 _Which it is,_ Clarke realised and the thrumming in her veins intensified.

“Well, um,” Clarke glanced around quickly, just to make sure, “where’s Octavia?”

“With Lincoln,” Indra replied, her brow furrowing even deeper, “scouting the Mountain.”

Clarke’s heart plummeted.

Lexa had definitely lied. Not only that: Lexa had given Octavia orders that would leave her alone and isolated in the quiet of the woods that surrounded their camp.

Lexa had given these orders right after discovering that Octavia knew their secret.

And then another thought reared in Clarke’s head:

 _Where the_ hell _is Ryder?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for persevering – really, if you’ve made it this far, you get serious commitment points!   
> Feedback is always valued, both ways, and, who knows!? Hopefully it won’t be another half-year before I post the next chapter! Fingers crossed…


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Long time no write and all that – I’m figuring that by now you’ve figured that I’m gonna be a bit sporadic, regardless of my attempts not to be! If you’re still reading at this point then congratulations on being a trooper – you are greatly appreciated!
> 
> I had a little break, wrote a fun little SuperCorp fic that reminded me how much I like to write, and now here we are with some more Clexa. I hope you enjoy it!

** Chapter 12 **

_The Alliance of the Twelve Clans is worth more than one life._

_But losing the alliance with the Skaikru would completely break your plan to bring down the Mountain. If silencing Octavia costs you that then it will be more than just one life in the balance._

_Silencing Octavia does not necessarily cost us the alliance with the Skaikru._

_It is done. There is no purpose to retreading decisions already made._

Lexa tried to force the voices in her head to be quiet, just for a few minutes. Sometimes the previous Commanders disagreed with each other so the advice they gave became less clear and less helpful. It was not often like _this_ though.

She closed her eyes, focused on her breathing for a few minutes and returned to her task. If all went according to plan, they would be going into battle today: she needed to look like a war-ready Commander.

Applying the dark kohl around her eyes had always been the most calming part of the process for Lexa; it was this, the mask of the warrior, which would enable her to keep her softer emotions in check and channel all her fury into the fight. With this, she could become ruthless and fearless, The Commander to be obeyed without question or hesitation. She could be what her people needed her to be.

She focused on that calming thought, breathing it in as she smeared another line of shadow into her face.

And then her calm was interrupted.

The tent flap burst open and she looked up to see Clarke barrelling inside with Ryder at gunpoint.

_Oh._

Clarke radiated fury as she marched forward, kicking one of Ryder’s legs out from under him and forcing him to kneel, her gun to his head.

“You sent him to kill Octavia?” she hissed, her eyes blazing with blue fire and outrage. “I told you she’s not a problem.”

Lexa stared for a moment, every kind of thought flying through her mind.

_How did_ Clarke _apprehend a warrior as skilled as_ Ryder _?_

_She defends her people with the fury of the pauna. It’s breathtaking._

_Leader of the Skaikru or not, she_ cannot _be allowed to challenge you like this in front of your people._

“Leave us,” she ordered Ryder, her eyes only leaving Clarke for a second to see his obedience, but even as he nodded and rose to his feet Clarke burst out again.

“No,” she practically spat as she thrust her gun right into Ryder’s chest. “I’m not letting him out of my sight.”

At this Lexa felt her own anger rise, pushing her to her feet.

_Anger will not fix this._

“Stand down for now and wait for my command,” she said to Ryder, forcing herself to keep her voice calm. She would not let Clarke unsettle her.

Ryder nodded his understanding, pushed Clarke’s gun aside almost disdainfully and strode from the tent. Clarke looked like she wanted to follow him for a second before she rounded back on Lexa.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she snarled, advancing on Lexa even as Lexa turned from her, descending from the dais and taking the kohl with her as she went. “You can’t just kill everyone you don’t trust.”

“Yes, I can,” Lexa replied calmly, meeting Clarke’s eye just long enough to make her pause on this truth before carrying on walking towards the partition to her quarters.

“Well, I won’t let you,” Clarke insisted as she followed close on Lexa’s heels, giving her no space.

“You were willing to let her die two days ago,” Lexa said with a sigh, turning to confront Clarke with this fact as she tugged on her wrist cuffs. “Nothing has changed.”

The silence held just for one second as Clarke processed this before-

“You’re wrong,” the blonde Skaigada said firmly, making Lexa look at her again, unable to rein in her facial expression. “ _I_ have,” Clarke said, her voice softening. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Lexa watched her turn and walk back into the main tent, her golden hair swaying as she bowed her head slightly.

_You need her to be strong. This is war; we don’t always have time for faith and grace._

“Octavia is a threat,” she said, hardening her own voice as she approached the younger girl. “If you weren’t so close to her, you’d see that.”

“It’s _because_ I’m close to her that I know she’s loyal,” Clarke retorted, her words firing her up again. “Her brother is more important to her than anyone. She would never endanger his life.”

“And you’re willing to risk everything on that?” Lexa asked, willing Clarke to understand the size of the risk she was taking, to see the weakness of it. “On your feelings?”

“Yes,” Clarke practically threw the retort at her. “You say having feelings makes me weak. But you’re weak for hiding from them.” Anger flared in Lexa’s chest but she couldn’t help remembering the fact that she herself had been questioning Titus’s teachings on feelings just two days before. “I might be a hypocrite, Lexa, but you’re a liar. You felt something for Gustus.” Lexa felt like Clarke had hit her in the face, except that she would have been able to deal with that better. “You’re still haunted by Costia. You want everyone to think you’re above it all, but I see right through you.”

And somehow Lexa found herself backed against the war table, having given ground to Clarke’s advance, apparently unable to stand against her onslaught. Rage and pain and grief fought inside her hollow chest, yet even now, perhaps especially now, she could not deny the way her heart pounded at Clarke’s proximity.

_It is weakness!_

The voice of Titus’ teaching was roaring in her head.

_Even now it is making you_ weak _._

“Get out,” she managed to hiss at Clarke through gritted teeth, trying to sound commanding and not as if Clarke had her at her mercy.

“250 people died in that village,” Clarke carried on, completely ignoring Lexa’s command and holding her position right up in Lexa’s face. “I _know_ you felt for them. But you let them burn.” She seemed to press somehow closer still, her clear blue eyes completely dismantling any idea Lexa had had that she had been able to conceal her grief from Clarke.

_She knows. She sees. Not even your mask can hide you from her._

“Not everyone,” she croaked out, her defences so battered and broken she could not keep this last truth hidden. “Not you.”

She watched, unable not to hope, unable to ignore the pounding thud of her heart as Clarke’s eyes flashed and widened with understanding, her aggressive stance softening. Her eyes darted down to Lexa’s lips.

“Well,” she spoke softly now, swallowing hard as she held Lexa’s gaze, her brow furrowing slightly as if in confusion, “if you care about me, then... trust me. Octavia’s not a threat.”

Clarke’s voice was almost a whisper at this point, close and intimate, pleading with Lexa to give in but-

_This is weakness! You cannot let your feelings affect your decisions! It is weakness, selfishness, unworthy of the Commander!_

Lexa felt her heart splinter.

“I can’t do that.”

She forced the words from her mouth and watched as Clarke’s whole face hardened against her.

“I can’t sacrifice my people anymore,” Clarke snapped, frustration threading through the anger in her voice. “If you do anything to hurt Octavia, I’ll tell everyone we knew about the missile.”

Lexa stared at her and knew this was not an empty threat.

If she was to effectively ‘silence’ Octavia, she would have to do the same to Clarke.

-

_‘Not everyone. Not you.’_

The memory of it was buzzing in Clarke’s head as she skulked around the camp, trying to keep an eye on Ryder and anyone else that came in the vicinity of the Commander’s tent. Lexa herself had not come out.

Clarke was furious with Lexa. Well, part of her was.

Or at least she was trying to be.

How could she _not_ be furious with someone who had ordered Octavia’s death?

_Because I know she doesn’t_ want _Octavia dead, she just doesn’t know how to trust for something this important._

_But that’s stupid. How can she expect any kind of alliance to work if she goes around killing people instead of trusting them?_

_She hasn’t killed_ me _though. She trusts me enough for that._

_Is it just that she trusts you though?_

That thought again triggered the spiralling whirlpool of thoughts and emotions that Clarke had desperately been trying to stay safe from ever since _‘Not everyone. Not you.’_

Lexa, who had just ordered Octavia’s death simply for knowing something dangerous, who had allowed Tondc to be bombed for the sake of their mission, who had forced Clarke to sacrifice Finn; this powerful and ruthless Commander of all twelve Grounder clans had stood there backed up against the table and told Clarke that she hadn’t been able to let her die. She’d looked at Clarke with those big green eyes of hers, practically shining with vulnerability even amidst the shadows of her war paint, and essentially admitted to caring for her. And not just that, but caring for her more than she cared for anyone else in Tondc.

There were too many angles of this for Clarke to wrap her head around.

There was a significant part of her that recoiled in fear, in almost outrage; how could she have any kind of romantic thoughts for someone so closely associated with death, for someone so integral to Finn’s death so soon after Finn had died?

_Can that really have been less than two weeks ago? How is that even possible?_

And yet.

Clarke wasn’t one for lying to herself. There was no denying the fact that, in just that short space of time, Lexa had made a significant impression on her. There was no denying the feeling of intense warmth that had flooded Clarke’s chest as Lexa talked so passionately of fighting for peace, fighting so that those who came after her would not have to. There was no denying the heat in her belly every time Lexa allowed herself one of those small smiles that lit up her impossibly beautiful face. There was no denying the fact that Clarke had thought about how soft Lexa’s lips looked on more than one occasion.

As impossible to contemplate as it was, the thought that Lexa cared for her sent thrills of hope and desire through Clarke’s whole body.

She shivered just at the memory of when Lexa had held her protectively against a tree to hide when they were in the forest the day after the pauna. Her warm, strong, warrior’s body had pressed so close against Clarke’s front as Lexa had leaned around to see whether or not danger approached.

_But she’s the Commander! The_ Grounder _Commander! This is insane!_

_And we’re in the middle of a very precarious war!_

Clarke practically collapsed down onto a log by the campfire she’d found Octavia at that morning, dropping her head into her hands for a moment as she tried to rein in all the wildly conflicting thoughts and feelings in her mind. She stared into the fire, hoping somehow that the mesmerising play of light and shadow in the flames would calm her tangled thoughts. Almost against her will she flashed back through every time Lexa had touched her, every time she’d smiled, every time she’d glimpsed that hidden vulnerability aching in her eyes…. Clarke’s heart clenched.

_But she tried to have Octavia killed! And the missile! And Finn…._

“Clarke!”

Clarke jumped nearly out of her skin as the gruff voice behind her interrupted her thoughts. She leapt to her feet, turning to see Ryder striding towards her. She tried not to let her hand drift towards her gun.

“Ryder?” she responded, keeping her voice almost as neutral as if she hadn’t had her gun pressed into his chest only an hour ago.

“The Commander would speak with you,” he said in a classic Grounder monotone, no hint whatsoever of what had transpired earlier. “In her tent.”

Clarke swallowed as various possible implications of this fluttered through her mind.

_She might have decided to trust me about Octavia._

_She might want to talk about the fact that she kind of just told me she has feelings for me._

_She might have decided that it’s simpler to silence_ me _as well as Octavia._

_Oh god._

She carefully swallowed all this down, nodded at Ryder and made her way back to the tent.

_Deep breaths._

She pushed her way through the tent flap and saw Lexa standing at the table, a rolled up scroll in her hands. As Clarke approached she watched as Lexa let it fall back to the table and couldn’t help the thought that flashed across her mind:

_Was she actually using that scroll, or did she just have it in her hand so it would look like she was doing something when I came in._

_Don’t be stupid; it’s the Commander, she’s not that frivolous._

_Does she look a little…nervous?_

_Get it together. This is serious, you drew a hard line and now you have to stick to it._

“You sent for me?” Clarke miraculously kept her voice calm and low as she came to stand at the table next to Lexa, watching carefully as the Commander’s eyes rose to meet hers.

“Yes,” Lexa said, holding her gaze for a long moment. “Octavia has nothing to fear from me.” Clarke felt the fear draining quickly from her body at Lexa’s words; she saw the brunette take in a deep breath as her gaze dropped back to her hands. “I do trust you, Clarke.”

Clarke swallowed, feeling her blood thrumming in her veins as she tried to process this, tried to process the enormity of what Lexa was saying.

“I know how hard that is for you,” she said gently, unable not to take a step closer. She watched Lexa’s throat bob as she swallowed hard before her eyes rose to meet Clarke’s again, pupils wide in the gloomy tent as she considered Clarke’s words.

“You think our ways are harsh,” she said, turning fully to face Clarke but keeping her voice soft despite its slight edge of defensiveness, “but that’s how we survive.”

“Maybe life should be about more than just surviving,” Clarke said firmly; she’d seen enough of the brutality to which that line of thinking lead to know that she wanted no part of it. “Don’t we deserve better than that?” She dropped her gaze, knowing even as she said it that Lexa would think her naïve.

But when she looked back up, Lexa was not looking at her with scorn or frustration as she had expected.

“Maybe we do.”

The words fell quietly from Lexa’s lips and then, before Clarke fully understood what was happening, the taller girl had leaned in, one hand rising to gently cup Clarke’s jaw as she pulled her close and kissed her.

It was so soft. Clarke had imagined Lexa’s lips to be soft but this- this was beyond imagining.

Clarke had never been kissed like this before, so tenderly, so delicately, so- so slowly; it was agonisingly perfect and she couldn’t help but reach for Lexa, to hold her closer, to kiss her again. She lost all thought as Lexa pressed closer and each second expanded infinitely, leaving Clarke revelling in the feel of her, the scent of her, the warmth of her soft, soft mouth.

But as suddenly as Clarke had lost herself in Lexa’s kiss, she fell back to reality with a crash. Lexa had only pulled back the tiniest amount, only enough to change her angle, but it was apparently just enough for Clarke to remember where they were and all that had happened in the last couple of weeks, for her to remember quite how precarious their situation already was.

Somehow she found the strength and the presence of mind to pull back just as Lexa leaned in again.

Lexa practically flinched backwards, her hand jerking away from Clarke as if it had been burned. Her green eyes were almost black as they flitted from Clarke’s eyes to her lips and back again, the vulnerability in them hammering painfully at Clarke’s heart.

“I’m sorry- I’m,” she said quickly, needing Lexa to understand that this was _not_ rejection. “I’m not _ready_... to be with _anyone_.” She watched as Lexa swallowed and kept her composure almost perfectly, only her eyes showing how much she felt. “Not yet.” Clarke searched her eyes, saw the minute nod of her head and knew that Lexa understood her.

_She always seems to understand me…_

Clarke wished so hard in that moment that they had met in a different time, a different place, a different life altogether.

And suddenly, as if to reinforce the knowledge that there was no bubble of peace and happiness into which they could retreat together, there was the sound of shouting outside the tent. The words were in Trigedasleng but from what Clarke had learned she was fairly certain she’d heard the words for ‘come quickly’ as well as the shout of ‘Heda’.

She and Lexa looked at each other for half a second before dashing out of the tent. It didn’t take long to figure out what was happening: a blazing red light was burning its way into the sky. The signal they had been waiting for had come.

“Bellamy did it,” Clarke breathed, relief flooding her veins.

“You were right to have faith in him,” Lexa murmured as she stood beside her and it was all Clarke could do to hold in a wide smile. She turned to Lexa as the brunette turned to her and their eyes met, solidifying the trust that had been building and building between them. “Now we fight.”

Adrenaline rushed through Clarke at those words.

_It’s finally happening; we’re finally going to rescue everyone from the Mountain._

She could see the same fire burning in Lexa’s eyes and felt her heart skip a beat.

And then the Commander turned and jogged away to the ridge overlooking the valley where her vast army lay, waiting for her to lead them into battle. Clarke followed after her and couldn’t help but find it completely breathtaking as the girl who’d kissed her so tenderly not two minutes before set the horns blaring and rallied the battle cry of a thousand warriors for the fight to end the war.

-

_You must focus, child! Your task is crucial._

Clarke had gone to speak with Octavia and Lexa was doing her best to use this moment without her to force her mind back on track. It was an extremely difficult undertaking, due largely to the fact that less than two hours ago she had kissed Clarke and Clarke had kissed her back. _This is juvenile and weak. Not to mention dangerous on the cusp of battle. Focus!_

But it had been a- an almost transcendent experience: feeling Clarke melt against her, feeling her mouth moving against her own, feeling Clarke’s hand come up to hold her close….

And even though it had almost shattered Lexa’s heart when she pulled away, she more than understood why. She had been asking a lot of the younger girl by kissing her then; she had simply been unable to keep herself from expressing the feelings that were pounding with increasing strength in her own chest.

_And she didn’t say ‘no’, only ‘not yet’._

There had been such promise in her eyes, as if she was willing Lexa to see her truth; Lexa saw it, in fact she clung to it.

_Focus, nightbleeder!!_

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a step before reopening them with a new determination to focus, to lead her people to the victory that they needed. Not to mention, of course, the fact that they would need to win if she and Clarke were ever to discover what might lie beyond that ‘not yet’.

_You have a heart and should use it, but do_ not _let it run away with you in this battle. Your priority, your first duty must always be to fight for and protect your people._ Everything _else comes after that._

She nodded quietly to herself, knowing that the voices of the past commanders were right on this point. She must win this war, she must save her people and then, once everyone was safe, she _might_ be allowed to let her heart take the lead.

She took another deep, bracing breath to centre herself and realised what she actually needed to do. With a quick glance around, she saw Indra making her way back through the advancing mob of warriors, presumably back to where Octavia and the rest of her team were marching.

“Indra!” she called, watching as the Tondc Chief’s sharp eyes locked quickly onto her before she changed course and headed towards Lexa.

“Heda?”

“I assume you are heading back to your team?” Indra nodded. “I believe Clarke is walking with Octavia at the moment. Send her to me when you reach them.”

There was only the slightest twitch of Indra’s eyebrow, but it was definitely there.

“Yes, Heda,” she nodded before striding back off through the trees.

_You must be especially careful to make decisions with a clear head when it is so obvious to your warriors that Clarke is in your heart._

Lexa grimaced slightly but could not ignore the truth of this.

_All the more reason to focus and be as mentally prepared for this fight as you can be._

“Lexa?” Clarke’s voice called out several minutes later and Lexa turned to meet her as she approached. It was hard not to beam her delight at just the sight of her, but she held it in. Now was not the time. “Indra said you wanted to speak with me?”

“Yes,” Lexa replied firmly, hauling her mind away from contemplating the way the dappled sunlight of the forest glowed golden in Clarke’s hair as they walked between the trees. “I thought we should go over what we will say to our warriors once we reach the foot of the Mountain. The other three teams have had their orders, but ours have not and I do not think enough of them realise that this is a rescue mission, not a wipe out.”

“Good point,” Clarke nodded, a soft smile curving her lips as she glanced at Lexa beside her.

They walked on, divvying up the responsibilities of command between them as they went; Clarke took more of the actual instruction and Lexa took more of the troop-inspiration.

“You’re better at the rousing speeches than I am,” Clarke had said with another slight curve of a smile on her lips.

“Either that or you think I’ll say some of the ‘technical terminology’ incorrectly in front of your Skaikru warriors,” Lexa retorted, unable not to revel in Clarke’s small snuff of laughter.

“Hey, you said it, not me,” the blonde said, holding her hands up in mock-defence. “But seriously,” she continued, her face and voice sobering, “we need them to be inspired, to believe that we can win. You inspire people, Lexa.”

Their eyes met for a long second in which Lexa’s whole body hummed with the possibilities of what might lie in store for them if they made it through this.

And suddenly, almost as if in unison with this thought, there rose around them a great battle cry, hundreds of voices screaming their fury and their determination to the sky. She met Clarke’s eyes again and saw the flame of hope burning bright in them.

The marched throughout the day until the clouds began to draw in, dimming the sky as they reached their destination: the foot of Mount Weather. Orders were given out as necessary, some warriors to build a barrier to shelter them in front of the Mountain’s door, some to erect the Command tent. Soon, she stood in the tent with Clarke and the various leaders of the clans who would be fighting with her today, waiting and watching as the Skaikru fighters filed in.

“Welcome, Skaikru,” she said firmly as the men and women with guns walked in to stand with her and her warriors. “Join us.”

She watched as a tall man, Miller she believed he was called, approached Clarke with a heavy metal cylinder carried carefully in his hands. “A package from Raven,” he said, showing it to her. “Hydrazine. She said it would do the job.”

“Good,” Clarke nodded, her face grim.

“And, uh, your mother wanted to be here, too,” Miller said, his tone slightly uncomfortable; Lexa could practically feel Clarke tensing beside her.

“I know,” the blonde cut him off as he tried to offer some explanation, “but the wounded in Tondc need her more.”

He nodded, his eyes sad as he met Clarke’s gaze before he moved back to join the rest of the fighters around the war table.

Lexa glanced around the room to see that everyone was ready and listening, glanced at Clarke who swallowed and nodded, and then she began.

“Field commanders,” she started, her voice raised just enough to be clear around the whole tent, her eyes darting around the room to make sure she had everybody’s full attention, to make sure she met every eye. “Today’s the day we get our people back. The enemy thinks it’s safe behind its doors, but it’s not. When it realizes that, it will fight back. Hard. We need to be ready.”

She turned to Clarke who met her gaze with a silent nod of approval before taking her cue and stepping forward to speak as they had agreed.

“This is a rescue mission,” she began, and Lexa was pleased though not surprised to see Clarke addressing the gathered warriors with such certainty and clarity. “We are not here to wipe them out. There are people inside that mountain that have helped us, children who have nothing to do with this war. We kill their soldiers, their leadership if we have to, but we are there to _rescue_ our people. Is that clear?”

She paused, looking around the tent and meeting the eye of every man and woman present to make sure she was understood.

_As all great leaders should._

“Then let’s begin,” she said, her voice clear and firm and just as inspiring as it needed to be. “There are four teams,” she began, stepping forward to indicate their positions on the field model they had created on the table. “Two of them, at the dam and in the mine, are moving into position already. The third, inside the Mountain, is freeing the Grounder prisoners as we speak. It is our job as the fourth team to keep the eyes of the enemy off of them for as long as possible. To do that, we have to be in position here at the main door with our entire army.”

She paused, one hand resting with a small thunk on the model of the main door as she looked around the room, making sure she still had the whole room’s full attention.

“The Mountain Men believe the door can’t be opened from the outside, so they leave it unguarded. Only it _can_ be, and thanks to our source on the inside, now we know how. According to Maya, the electromagnetic locking system has one flaw. When the power goes out, it disengages. That’s where Raven’s team comes in.”

Again, she moved around the model, using it to indicate the dam at the far side of the table.

“The Mountain’s electricity is generated at Philpott Dam. By now, they’ve taken the turbine room. It’s their job to blow the power. Once they do, we blow the lock. There is a catch: a backup generator inside the Mountain. If the lock is still functioning when that backup power kicks in, we’ll never get that door open, we’ll never get our people back.”

“How much time do we have until the backup power kicks in?” Miller asked in the small silence after Clarke’s words.

“One minute,” Clarke replied and Lexa saw the tightening of her jaw at the thought. “That’s the window.”

“Small window,” Miller murmured, frowning slightly. “Why don’t we just take out the backup generator, too? Bellamy’s inside. Have him do it.”

“Leaving them without power that long would kill them all,” Clarke answered him quickly and firmly, but she could tell that Clarke was just as aware as she was that Miller was not completely satisfied with that answer, although he did accept it. “And as I said, that’s not the mission. Besides,” she continued, swallowing heavily but keeping her composure well, “we lost contact with Bellamy.”

“What?” a young Skaigada interjected and Lexa was forcefully reminded of the fact that Clarke had told her that Bellamy had kept most of the young Skaikru alive when they had first arrived. “We did? When?”

“After he took out the acid fog,” Clarke answered firmly and calmly, but Lexa could see the line of tension in her shoulders now.

“Bellamy’s a warrior,” she said, addressing her words both to the young Skaigada and to Clarke who turned to meet her gaze. “He’ll be fine.” Clarke looked at her for a long moment and Lexa hoped she would find whatever strength or encouragement that she needed.

“As the Commander said,” Clarke carried on, her tension diminished and her focus back, “once the door is open, the shooting will start, and they’ll throw everything they have at us, but that’s what we want. We want them looking at us because while we’re fighting at the front door, Indra’s team will be escorting the prisoners out the back, right through the reaper tunnels. Once all our people are free, they’ll sound the retreat. We’ll be back home before Mount Weather even knows they’re gone, and that’s it. That’s the plan.”

As she spoke her final words, she turned back and moved to stand beside Lexa again, glancing once more around the room before turning her brilliant blue eyes on Lexa again. Lexa nodded at her, hoping she would see how proud she was of her, that she would see her reflection in Lexa’s eyes and know that she was the great leader she’d been born to be.

_Focus now; it is time to be their Heda, to inspire them for the fight._

“The Mountain has cast a shadow over these woods for too long,” she spoke the words to paint the picture in every mind, looking around the tent as she began to slowly walk its length. “They’ve hunted us, controlled us, turned us into monsters. That ends today. Thanks to our alliance with the Sky People, the Mountain will fall. As Clarke said, we spare the innocent. As for the guilty...” She paused, glancing around and gathering every heart and mind in the palm of her hand as she lowered her voice to not much more than a whisper. “Jus drein, jus daun!”

“Jus drein, jus daun!”

The words echoed back at her from around the room, and she joined with them again.

“Jus drein, jus daun! Jus drein, jus daun!”

The chant crescendoed around the room with more voices joining the cry, even the Skaikru lending their voices until the roar became so loud that those outside the tent heard it and joined in, so their battle cry rolled its way around the valley.

She looked to Clarke and saw that her eyes were blazing with blue fire as they met her own, her voice joining the rallying cry as the roar of a thousand warriors rumbled through the air.

-

Clarke wished she could regain some of the adrenaline, some of the certainty and faith that had flooded her system as they had stood in the tent, the roaring chant of ‘jus drein, jus daun!’ filling every heart with a sense of being unstoppable, undefeatable.

Now she felt impatient and anxious.

Now she felt the heavy weight of all their plans and of all the possible repercussions if anything went wrong.

“It’s taking too long,” she hissed as she paced up and down behind the sheltering wall that had been built.

“It takes as long as it takes,” Lexa murmured in reply. The Commander was just standing there, apparently completely at ease, despite their long hours of waiting; a small, extremely jealous part of Clarke wanted to throttle her.

The silence held for another few moments but this time it was Lexa who broke it.

“What will you do when it’s over?”

The Commander’s tone was as neutral and unencumbered as ever, but Clarke could just imagine the slight ripple that might flash along her jaw, the deep sea of vulnerability in her green eyes….

She refused to look.

_I can’t let that thought distract me now, even if Lexa thinks the distraction might do me good._

“I have no idea,” she replied firmly, resolutely keeping her eyes facing forward.

“Well, what do you want?” came the next question, Lexa’s tone almost tentative, searching, trying to coax an answer from her.

“Nothing,” Clarke persisted, holding fast for another few seconds before the feel of Lexa’s eyes on her became too much to ignore and she allowed her eyes to meet Lexa’s, shadowed as they were by both war paint and the oncoming night. “My people back,” she said, clinging to that which really was the thing she wanted most. “I can’t think past today.” She turned to face forward again as she said it, unwilling to examine too closely the idea that she simply dared not allow herself the luxury of thinking of tomorrow.

“You should come with me to the capital,” Lexa’s gentle invitation burst into Clarke’s heart and mind, and she had to look at the older girl, to see that beautiful, open vulnerability in her eyes. “Polis will change the way you think about us.”

“You already have,” Clarke found herself admitting, unable to look away for those glorious few seconds as Lexa’s whole face softened, a hint of that tiny, impossibly sweet smile glowing on her face before-

Suddenly the sound of gunfire shattered the quiet night and Clarke’s whole body flinched. She looked around frantically before realising that the sound was far-off, but even Lexa was unsettled, her hand now firmly gripping her sword.

“It’s coming from the dam,” Lincoln said as he appeared at her side.

“They know we’re going for the power,” Clarke muttered her realisation.

“They know we’re going for the door,” Lexa said as she quickly put it together.

The air was suddenly hypercharged. After so many hours of waiting, the time for action was apparently nigh. Clarke took another deep breath, trying to centre herself as Lincoln turned to bellow orders in Trigedasleng.

“Raven will get it done,” Monroe said with only a slight waver in her voice, her eyes meeting Clarke’s past Lexa. “She’s one of us.” Much as she had confidence in Raven, Clarke couldn’t help the thought that wondered which ‘us’ she herself fit into right now.

“As soon as those lights go off, you push that button,” Sergeant Miller spoke from just behind Clarke’s shoulder, pushing the small device into her hands. “We’ll do the rest.”

Clarke stared at the red button, trying not to feel the sweat on her palms as she thought of all that depended on the next few minutes.

And then, as if on cue, the bright white lights either side of the door flickered, dimmed and went out. Clarke’s heart almost stopped before it thudded into a new and higher gear.

“She did it,” she breathed her wonder and relief.

“One minute, starting now,” Sgt. Miller said, starting his watch.

Clarke swallowed, staring at the trigger device in her hand for a long second before turning to Lexa and raising it between them. She knew she wanted Lexa with her in this.

“For those we’ve lost,” Clarke began, her eyes meeting Lexa’s and seeing there the dawning understanding and a sense of excitement matching her own.

“And those we’ll soon find,” Lexa finished, echoing back the words that she’d said less than two weeks before but in such a different time. It was almost impossible to understand quite how much had changed in that short time.

Lexa’s hand came up to cover her own and together they pressed the big red button.

Nothing happened.

Clarke’s stomach seemed to drop out through her feet.

They jabbed at the button again, and again, Lexa releasing it to her as she looked on in confusion.

“What’s wrong?” the Commander asked, irritation flashing in her tone. “Why isn’t it working?”

“They’re jamming us,” Clarke muttered as the realisation hit her and she moved quickly out from cover. “I have to get closer.”

It hadn’t even occurred to her that getting closer might put her directly in the line of fire.

As soon as she emerged from behind the wall, the air exploded with the sound of bullets. There was a vaguely muffled sound of someone shouting her name and then a pair of thick, muscular arms had wrapped around her and dragged her back behind cover.

_Lincoln_ , she realised in some confusion as he deposited her back next to Lexa, the Commander’s shadowed eyes burning into her for a long second as they crouched below the range of the raining bullets.

“45 seconds!” Sgt. Miller yelled above the deafening roar of gunfire.

“Swap emo triga op! Gyon au!” Lexa yelled to a group of fighters behind them and they peeled off into the darkness.

_Shooters? Go? Damnit, I wish I knew more Trigedasleng!_

“If I can get there, I can trigger it manually,” Miller shouted over the din as he came to crouch beside her.

“No,” Clarke objected, frustrated by the obvious. “You _can’t_ get there.”

“For Nate,” he insisted and Clarke’s heart cracked a little further. “I have to try.”

Even as Clarke was handing over the trigger device and taking his watch in return, Lexa was calling out more commands in Trigedasleng; Clarke caught the word for ‘wall’ and understood when she saw a bevy of Grounders forming up around Miller, raising their shields in a protective wall around him.

“30 seconds!” she called as she checked the time and saw how low the count had gotten.

And then she looked up, just in time to see the Grounders’ shield wall begin to fall. One by one they dropped under the bullets’ merciless rain until every fighter had fallen, taking Miller and their last hope with them.

_Oh god…we can’t-_

“We’ll find another way in,” Lexa’s voice was hard and determined as she pulled Clarke around to look at her.

“There _is_ no other way in,” Clarke retorted brokenly. “You know that.”

“We don’t need one,” Lincoln called and Clarke whipped around to see him lighting an arrow tip and taking aim.

_Oh god….please-!_

“Ten seconds-” she called, swallowing hard as she tried to have faith. “Five seconds!” she continued urgently as she saw him hesitate- “Four, three, two-”

The arrow flew and the sound of the blast was like music to Clarke's ears.

“It worked!” she gasped, trying desperately not to hyperventilate as disbelieving relief rushed through every cell in her body.

“We need to get to that ridge and take out the shooters,” Lexa said, staring up at the ridge, her eyes gleaming with the adrenaline of the approaching fight. As soon as she said the words Lincoln moved to lead his troop of warriors off to the ridge but Lexa stopped him with a sudden roar. “No!” she grabbed the big fighter, yanking him down next to Clarke, her eyes almost as wild as when they’d been chased by the pauna. “You stay with Clarke. When the shooting stops, you get that door open.”

Everything was so frantic, the tangy smell of the explosion in the air and the sound of bullets bursting in the dark night, and yet somehow there was still a second in which Lexa’s eyes met Clarke’s and the weight of many things still unsaid landed heavy in her chest.

And then Lexa was gone, vanished into the dark with a swarm of Grounders at her heels. Clarke tried not to think about the many large guns that the beautiful brunette was heading for, tried not to think about the fact that it was more than possible that they’d never see each other again. She tried to believe that Lexa knew how much Clarke wanted that chance to go to Polis, to make Lexa’s world her own.

-

“We need to get to that ridge and take out the shooters,” Lexa said, her chest heaving with adrenaline as her plan began to form. Before she could even begin to start doling out orders however, Lincoln started to move off, aiming for the ridge. “No!” she bellowed, not caring to keep her tone neutral as she pulled him back beside Clarke. She needed him, one of her best warriors, someone that she trusted and that Clarke trusted, to stay by the blonde Skaigada’s side. “You stay with Clarke,” she all but growled at him. “When the shooting stops, you get that door open.”

He nodded his understanding and just for one second Lexa allowed her eyes to meet Clarke’s.

It took all the strength given her by the past commanders to tear herself away, but she did it. She knew, and every single voice in her head had also told her, that she would not fight like the Commander if she was fighting next to Clarke; fighting and worrying did not mix well. She knew she must find a different place in this battle and here was her opportunity.

“Go!” she roared in Trigedasleng as she charged along the barricade, her warriors falling into step behind her as they ran to flank the ridge. She could hear the sound of bodies dropping behind her and knew that Mountain Man bullets were finding their way through to her soldiers.

_Jus drein, jus daun! They will rue the day they stole life from my people!_

Staying low, she managed to make it up around the other side of the ridge with perhaps twenty warriors still behind her. She could see the outlines of the Mountain Men, murky grey shadows in the night, staying low across the ridge as they rained their bullets down on the barricade below.

With fire and fury powering her limbs, she ran as swift and silent as the wind until she cut down the first man with an almighty snarl. At that, the fighters behind her howled their vengeance to the sky, descending on the Mountain Men like a rushing river. Their justice was swift and brutal; Lexa felt the warm splash of blood across her face as her sword sliced up through a man’s body, all the way to his neck.

And then she heard it, one of the Mountain Men calling to her.

“Commander!” the voice came out of the darkness behind her and she whipped around, as yet unable to see the man who dared speak to her. “Commander, I have something to say that you’re going to want to hear- unf!!”

His voice was cut off suddenly with the snarling sound of a fight breaking out and then within a few seconds, the Mountain Man was dragged, bruised and bloodied before her, his hands bound.

“What is this?” she demanded, disgust rising in every part of her. “There is nothing to be said, Mountain Man. No words can atone for what your people have done.”

“Maybe not,” he conceded, coughing harshly and spitting out a gob of blood; Lexa’s disgust only increased. “But I have been authorised to offer you a deal. Your people in exchange for your retreat.”

Lexa stared at him.

“I can guarantee the safe release of every single one of your people from within our walls, not another drop of your people’s blood spilled. All you need to do is have all of your people withdraw.”

“Why would I ever trust you on that? We know now why you hunt us; we know you need our blood to survive-”

“Not anymore,” he cut her off, an awful gleaming grin beginning to spread on his face. “Not now that we have the people from the Ark.”

“The Ark?”

Lexa felt like the air in her lungs had frozen, like a vice was clamping around her chest, like she was being pulled into a deep pit of painful black fire.

_My people. Not_ all _their prisoners. Just my people._

The Mountain Men were offering her freedom and safety for all her people in exchange for the lives of Clarke’s people. In one fell swoop she could save her people without losing any more lives to the fiery rain of Mountain Man bullets, but in order to do so she would have to leave the Skaikru, leave Clarke, abandon Clarke.

_And abandon the fight! What about ‘jus drein, jus daun’?! My people need their vengeance!_

_No! What they need is their lives! Your first duty is to protect, not to avenge! You_ must not _let your desire to fight for Clarke cloud your judgement!_

She tried to think rationally, to drown out the pitiful, grieving cry of her heart.

_I know what I must do._

“I accept your offer,” she managed to say, tearing the words from the burning river of sorrow in her chest.

It took everything in her to hold herself together as the Mountain Man’s grin widened; it took everything in her not to shake and roar with her rage and frustration, with the anguish that came from putting duty before the heart.

“Stand down,” she called to her warriors on the ridge with her, forcing her voice to be steady, calm, neutral; to not give away the torrential pain inside her.

She looked back at the Mountain Man, his hateful smile still stretching on his face as he used his bound hands to press a button on a small black device attached to the front of his clothes.

“The Commander has agreed to our offer, sir,” he spoke into it.

“Ok,” a voice replied from the black device, a strange hiss lining every syllable. “Good. We’ll start the release now, Commander, in good faith that you’ll stick to your side of the bargain. Your people will be coming out of that front door at any minute.”

With another swirl of anger, Lexa realised that Clarke, Lincoln and the rest of her warriors by the door would have heard the guns stop, would even now be pulling at the door expecting to find Mountain Men on the other side.

“Bring him,” she said sharply to the warriors still holding the Mountain Man on his knees before her, and then she turned, dashing back down the ridge to the barricade.

_It was the right decision. You did not let the weakness of your heart rule the strength of your mind._

Lexa tried to feel convinced by this.

She slowed to a walk, pushing through the hordes of her people as they parted before her, just in time to see her warriors heave open the door to wild and triumphant cheers.

“Attack now!” Clarke’s voice rose among the melee and it was up to Lexa to stop it.

“Stand down!!” she roared in Trigedasleng, using every bit of force and volume that she could find to quiet the thunderous crowd.

The cheering gave way to confused muttering as Lexa marched down towards Clarke and the others, keeping her head held high even as she lead the bound Mountain Man behind her. She saw Clarke look from her to the Mountain Man and back, her brow furrowing.

“What is this?” the younger girl asked, her voice uncertain as her eyes searched out Lexa’s in the gloom. Lexa forced herself to meet her gaze but knew that Clarke would know she’d betrayed her the moment she did; Clarke could read her like no one else.

“Hey, look!” someone from the barricade cried. “They’re coming out!”

Every eye turned to see and Lexa’s chest clenched again as she saw the tottering, feeble, wasted bodies of her people as they came out.

_This you must remember; saving your people from such a wretched fate is something you can never regret._

Lexa felt rage and vengeance swell in her heart as she looked on but quickly shut it down. A deal had been struck; she could not and would not go back.

“They’re surrendering?” Clarke said, turning to Lexa with hope in her voice and Lexa could not look at her, not yet.

“Not quite,” the Mountain Man said, his voice oozing with smug satisfaction as he stepped forward.

And then, with the knowledge that her heart would be rent in two, Lexa turned to meet Clarke’s gaze. The Skaigada looked from her to the Mountain Man, to the floor, and back to Lexa, their brilliance dimming as understanding rose.

“What did you do?” Clarke asked, her voice low and on the edge of breaking.

“What you would have done,” Lexa replied, swallowing hard and refusing to allow the shaking in her hands. “Saved my people.”

“Where are my people?” Clarke murmured, a sort of bewildered horror coming over her face.

“I’m sorry, Clarke,” Lexa said, forcing her tone to stay calm and neutral even as she had to stomp down on the raging nausea in her gut. “They weren’t part of the deal.” Clarke’s horror seemed only to deepen.

Lexa took another breath, turning to the Mountain Man as he stepped forward again, raising his bound hands to her.

“You made the right choice, Commander,” he said with such satisfaction that it was all Lexa could do not to plunge the knife into his throat instead of using it to cut the ropes that bound him. He turned and walked back into the Mountain, a free man; Lexa looked to Clarke again just in time to see disgust joining the horror in her eyes.

“What is this?” Lincoln demanded, striding forward at the sight of the Mountain Man’s release.

“Your Commander’s made a deal,” Clarke said, her voice hollow and her eyes still trained on Lexa. Her head was shaking minutely as if she was still trying to understand how this could possibly be happening.

“What about prisoners from the Ark?”  

“They’ll all be killed,” Clarke answered him, scorn and disgust beginning to curl her lip as she continued, “but you don’t care about that, do you?” Her words were like acid fog in Lexa’s lungs.

“I do care, Clarke,” she insisted, selfishly willing Clarke to understand, “but I made this choice with my head and not my heart. The duty to protect my people comes first.”

_On some level, she_ will _understand!_

_She must!_

“Please don’t do this,” Clarke begged, her voice cracking; tears began to shine in her perfect blue eyes and Lexa came closer than ever before to breaking.

“I’m sorry, Clarke,” she said, swallowing hard and praying that the shine in her own eyes was not too bright.

“Commander, not like this,” Lincoln objected, as if he thought he could persuade her when Clarke’s pleading had not. “Let us fight.”

“No,” she stood firm. “The deal is done.”

There was the creaking groan of heavy metal on metal and they turned to see the huge front door of the Mountain swing shut behind the last few straggling prisoners.

_It is done. It is finished._

She saw Clarke’s eyes widen as she looked wildly from Lexa to the closed door and back again, despair settling in her eyes along with the horror and disgust.

_It is done._

“Sound the retreat,” she ordered the horn bearer and he raised the horn to his lips, letting the clear ringing sound echo around the valley. Immediately her warriors began to turn, the vast horde vanishing back between the trees.

“You, too,” she said to Lincoln, seeing his usual stubbornness rise on his face. “All our people withdraw. Those are the terms.”

“They’ll be slaughtered,” he objected, turning to her. “Let me help them.”

“Take him,” she ordered the warriors in her team, her eyes still on Lincoln as he all-but growled his frustration. He was a good warrior, a good man; it gave her no pleasure to see him brought down but she could not allow his disobedience.

She steeled herself one last time before turning back to look at Clarke. The younger girl was staring at her, shaking in horror and disbelief, pain and betrayal leaking from her eyes.

“May we meet again,” Lexa murmured the Skaikru words with almost no hope in her heart, saw the way Clarke flinched at the sound of them.

She turned and marched away, commanding herself to leave behind the memories of golden hair in the sunlight, of sky blue eyes twinkling with gentle mockery, of the magnificent righteous rage and courage of Clarke kom Skaikru as she fought for her people; she commanded herself to forget the feel of Clarke’s soft lips moving against her own.

_These are the sacrifices the Commander must be prepared to make._

_You showed true strength today._

_Do not let your own weakness mar the victory of having saved so many lives whilst losing so few._

Lexa bowed her head as she strode through the darkness of the woods, letting the shadows hide her tears as they fell.

 

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. So I guess it’s not the cheeriest chapter end I’ve ever written… O_o But I did want to include this storyline – while I will definitely be veering away from canon around 3.07, I think that Lexa’s decision here is both in-character and really interesting, so I hope you’ll forgive me for dragging you all through that particular bit of heartbreak. If you do need something cheerier to read, that SuperCorp fic I wrote is basically a fun romp fixit for the musical episode, so maybe give that a go? 
> 
> Anywho, seeing as you must be one of those absolute troopers who’s still reading, thanks! Let me know what you thought!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it; let me know either way


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